


Lord of Magic

by Kerone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry Potter, F/M, Multi, Powerful Harry Potter, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-05-14 00:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19262338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerone/pseuds/Kerone
Summary: Fate is peculiar.No one controls it, nor do they know what it has in store. Destiny waits for those worthy.For the Wizard that created magic. Who's fate was not his own to control. Destiny already written.Peering into fate, he cheats destiny with his last resort.His One True Heir is the key, Years into the future. Harry James Potter grows with newfound wisdom, newfound power. A lord of darkness means nothing when magic now bends to him.|| Discord Server for the Twist of Fate (ToF) Series: https://discord.gg/aH5ydCV ||





	1. Prolouge

To 'Twist Fate' and 'Control Destiny' Has always been in the mind of those with power. To prevent one's demise, or procure a destiny of fame and glory. For any Witch or Wizard; Fate and destiny, controlling one's future was always a necessity.

Even for the Greatest Wizard in history.

The Father of Magic, creator of spells, charms, curses, and more. Always seeked to claim his own. Yet was unable to as life continued, and he had grown to old, to soon. 'Ancient Houses' of the Modern Magical World claimed to descendant, or trace their line to Merlin or in relationship to the Magister Magi. That Magic ran through their veins as a whole rather than an extension. His talent in their soul, his mind within theirs. the 'Pureblood' houses claimed to only have magical ancestry.

Yet only one house held all but what the others claimed. 

For in his prime, Merlin loved. yet only one had held his heart as dearly as he held hers. While those that he shared relation with were of magic history, their magic given by Merlin, learned through him. Only learning of proper spells through his teachings. The one girl to share his love was that without magic. A muggle woman, who rather than learn more under the master mage decided to teach him cooking and pottery. of a World unconnected to magic. 

So when the child was born, the true heir of Merlin's Magic. He promised her his eternal love. Promising her the world he did so the only way her knew how. His Magic was to be her son's: Merlin's Talent and mind. So his love could see a world of wonder and magic. Unaware of the consequences his act of love brought.

As merlin grew older- the more his power surged. Creating his legacy known through history as fact to the magical world and myth to the muggles. He had obtained an age of power and control he believed was enough

But Destiny was not his to control, Fate not his to command. 

Yet he knew it could be given to a descendant worthy.

The House of Potter: One of the oldest family of wizarding Britain. Influence wide and wealth running deep. It's ancestry knowing but not all there. Lost in history that their ancestor- A Muggle Potter. Had loved the great Merlin, and that he had loved her. Whose Magic ran deep through their blood, Talent and mind. All dormant awaiting a worthy heir.

One to grow as Powerful if not more so than the Father of Magic. To create one's own destiny, and take fate as their own.

Unbeknown to an infant Harry Potter. Born July 31st, 1980. He truly would be the boy who lived.

The Descendant of Merlin would truly leave his mark in history. Destiny in control of nothing to him, and fate bending to his will. His story would begin before him, yet end with him.


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Journey Begins, but with change nothing is the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see end of chapter for Notes for the future of this story.
> 
> Enjoy -Kerone

The nerve.

Merlin knew how humanity. Those Magical and Muggle, could test even the most patient, push the world for better or worse. Peering into fate was strenuous enough. Though the stress of experiencing the future would drive even the mentally exhausting, and would drive even the most trained mad. Though a Wizard first, a Warlock second, being a druid and seer was an addition he was glad to have garnered through his years of magic. It allowed the mage to do what he did. Be who he was.

His magical reserve, though powerful, strained his physical body. Raw, uncontrolled magic was dangerous as it was powerful. Before Magic was its real beauty: The Arcana, though to the untrained eye could easily be misunderstood and seen as only unstable magic. It was simply in such a raw and untamed form that it was simply mistaken as being unstable 'magic'. Though the danger lay in the fact that if one had Arcana rather than magic, the pure magical essence would corrode the physical body. 

For Merlin, who lacked the knowledge of this till it was too late. The Arcana had destroyed his blood- he was more magic than human now. Infertile as his seed was that of magical origins-which surprised him since 'purebloods' of the future claimed to be descendant of himself. The innate magic within him wasn't the problem. Everyone arguably had magic within their souls- only needing to be awakened. Though the Arcana was different. As different as skill and talent. One was born with the other, one wasn't. His body was failing with the surge of power with no proper way to circulate the energy. The only reason for his life to be prolonged was his magical reserves. Which still could only do so much. That is unless you spent massive amounts of magic constantly- a temporary fix, though effective in its own right.Thus- Merlin constantly used his magic. Unlocking it's power which garnered him the status he had, the power to claim his role in history. Though it was also why he had multiple titles. He had tested his limits as a Mage, wizard, and warlock: creating history by fathering the study and practice of magic at 18! His four most prominent students leaving to create a wizarding school themselves in the productive future. One with the nature of the elements and life he became one of the first druids at 31. His greatest accomplishment was becoming a seer at 70. Though that did not sound impressive on its own. The fact for his time he personally found it an accomplishment.

So gazing into the future. Pushing his magic, activating his Arcana to its full potential. he gazed into the far potential. multiple timelines opening as an expanse of rivers and rapids. Some calm and slow, peaceful. Others raging like a sea of rage, torn by war, prejudice, and ruled by the prideful and greedy. Yet his focus was on the single time he was aiming for. All for his future. His heir's future: The Legacy of Merlin. Where his bloodline-his true heir- fought fate to continue. Where his bloodline survived. Dormant. His Arcana slumbering waiting to be awakened. The love of his life surviving, passing through the ages ultimatley to a young boy, who at birth was seen a hero but was not treated as one. It was a complicated feeling for him to view this timeline. 

History of himself seemed to be lost. As his four favorite students opened their school: Hogwarts. Salazar in his cunning claimed that 'Merlin' Went to the school as a Slytherin. Though he was correct and wrong at the same time: it would be someone with a portion of power- it would be far from the full potential of the Magic as held by himself, but could see why the claim was made. Scoffing he calmed himself. Humans, wizard and muggle alike were odd. So similar yet different in belief. sighing he singled out the point of time his spell would take part of. Or at least: The points of time. 

Rather than bombard the baby- the child- with all the power he held. The problem that the Arcana brought was the only clear issue. Something hopefully the Young Potter would know how to control with the increase of resources, the aging of time, and the use of his mind. Even if Magic had been water downed by meaningless 'casting' and un needed information and rules. It was fucking magic. One did not need to speak a specific activation word and wave their wands-which acted as catalysts for magic- to activate the spell. He grumbled at how magic had become at this time, his only hope being that his descendant was clever enough to figure out the true 'spellcasting' of magic.

Merlin coughed at his little outburst. As the one to create the first 'spell' and use magic, it was rather frustrating when someone decided to add complications, and useless restrictions of do's and do nots. similar to that math of the future. he could only wonder, why?

Taking a small breath to focus once more. He found himself back to the first point of time in which he would essentially 'bless' the boy. Of course by bless he'd be using the natural and raw power of the world's magical Ley Lines, his Arcana acting as the fuel for the spell. 

July 31st, 1980. Merlin coughed up blood as he made the first cast. To achieve a paragon for the Arcana. It all is up to chance with lady luck. unless you ensure your odds were indeed in your favor. Which of course he did. One must be born with talent. In which Harry James Potter was born indeed with it. However, His Arcana lay dormant- or in this case, their Arcana lay dormant. Meant to awaken one Halloween night. All for one purpose. The Arcana was Living magic, raw and untamed. If it's host was threatened, or if stressed enough. The Arcana would awaken. As theorized in the future that one is most dangerous when treading the line of life and death. He couldn't change fate, but he could give his descendant the opportunity to in the future. 

Beginning with one night. Where when the Killing Curse struck the Infant's mother: A flash of green, eyes glowing with power as the surge of power struck out. A Dark Lord no more that moment. Gone for the moment. As the baby cried for a mother that would not come. 

The second point of time was, oddly enough. to an 6 year old Harry Potter, hiding himself from an odd game of 'Harry Hunting'. A game that reminded Merlin of a game played by troll children involving a boulder, a log, and several cracked skulls. which, was just what he was waiting for. 

The moment the younger Dursley's swing connected to the young Potter's head. A sickening crack that made Merlin flinch. He cast the second spell. Dudley running away from the body, frightened at the thought that he commit murder- rushing to his father in which he promptly told the whale to: "hide the body father!" No one was present when a fluctuation of magic gathered. collecting around the unconscious body as his head healed. The natural magic of the world- aged with time, seeping into the child's mind. Merlin gave his mind to the child. The intellect, thirst for knowledge to know. the power of understanding and comprehending. The courage, that fear could be overcome if he didn't think and just decided to do: being brave in the face of danger. The Loyalty and Love to those he would hold dear, knowing he would do anything for his family and friends. As Merlin did with Arthur. Finally: The ambition, to strive for the best, Harry would know the world was his for the taking. Only if he was cunning enough to do so. He instilled four traits into his favorite four students. Yet these traits would shine brilliantly within the young Potter. All with the understanding of magic, quick wit and talent that Merlin himself had.

The real Merlin, not the one Salazar and the history books claimed there to be. Merlin smiled as he coughed once more, pain filling his body: like a flame burning his very soul. He gave Harry his Magic, his mind, including his memories. Though to the child it would most likely be a deja vu, or rather just a gut feeling to the boy, a hazy memory or vision. It would still work. His final gift to the boy was a friend. For the path to greatness can be lonely. 

If Harry were to take after himself, that would be problematic. One could easily be lonely when they stood a top in the world of power. He himself had few allies, and only a single friend. So for Harry he would give him a guide, an ally, a friend. He decided it would be best to give the boy the gift a year after his second cast. Where one lonely summer night. When the Dursley's decided to leave for a most needed 'Vacation', using their newfound 'income' that was meant for the caring of the young potter. A lonely Harry Potter would meet his first friend, first companion. A girl with glowing eyes, gold in comparison to her stark, snow white skin, pale to the touch it seemed. With hair as white it would seem to be colorless, reflective in the moonlight like silver even. 

They would connect, their bond not meant to be but an act of defiance to fate and destiny. Why? because she was there as proof, with him. She would be the first act to Harry claiming his own fate and destiny. He would not be a puppet, a tool, so long as she was there with him. It was time to begin his journey Merlin thought, a small smile on his face as he had given his heir the tools needed. All that was left was for him to pass on his final gift. The gift to start his journey. Mustering all his remaining magic. Whatever raw Arcana was left within his dying body. He slammed his staff into the ground, and ejected it forward with a mighty blast. streaking off in the distance. Would his heir find it? time could only tell. He was far to weak to find out. So he drew in his final breath, and Merlin closed his eyes and let go. Greeting an old friend among a round table.

: illa vivit :

Since he could remember, Harry was rather studious. He liked to think he was humble. As the Dursley's seemed to always remining him that him living was a gift enough. Though he didn't complain. More or less couldn't, though he didn't mind. Even with how he lived, he stayed strong. Survive and live to see another day, sooner or later it'll be better, that and if he gave up Hedwig would kill him. He could still count blessings at least. he was always hungry, but he ate. He wasn't bored cause he was always working. The beatings had built up his physical tolerance, as bad as it sounded, it made him stronger and more disciplined. He learned to survive. Cheat by off handedly using his cousins lack of intellect to fix his lack of food often. Though the few times he was caught taught him better. He was alive, seemingly alone but not lonely.

It was true as well about not being alone . Though he was often up early and was working often, he found his personal solace in the company of his friend at night. A girl named Hedwig, or so he named her. At first she was an Owl, then suddenly a girl. A secret between the two of them when they meet. 

Though the times spent together could be a full day, to a single night, or even an hour. Yet that was still enough for him. The small things mattered. She would bring him books, normal books about two cities or a journey to the center of the earth. To even odd books about spells, charms, curses, and more. She taught him and showed him what he knew. Even when it came to those silly books about magic.

As odd as they were the idea of casting magic was a dream. For the 7 year old Harry Potter, Magic was something he really wanted- no, wished existed. Until he found out he could actually do it just that-Magic! Suddenly the thought of Wizards and Witches seemed real. The books he read plausible. Those books Hedwig brought? Suddenly regarded in higher regarded as he spent his time studying. Hedwig only shaking her head at the sudden antic as her smile held the world for the young potter. where as lack of studying was spent practicing magic to do the tasks his uncle Vernon had set for him. His days becoming more free as more magic was learned. Less bruises, less injuries. Of course when the times did come that he couldn't avoid certain things: like his cousin needing to vent anger. He would focus on training physically as to not worry Hedwig. She always fussed over him so much.

by the time he had learned of magic- 3 months before his 8th birthday, he was able to cut the grass in mere moments- so long as he was careful as to not cut too deep into the earth. chores that would take all day were done with a wave of his hand in moments to minutes. His free time being spent practicing magic, reading it. or expanding his experience with it. Or-to his better enjoyment- spending it with the girl who gave the world to him that he only wished to return.

When Harry turned 8. He felt the constant surge of power as he felt compulsive to the need of using his constant magic. Days spent not using magic tended to be bottle up and explosive during the later hours. He could feel the surge of magic through his blood, his bones strengthened as though they themselves were magic fueled. By then his vision had returned in full stem. His glasses now normal glass as to keep the façade of needing them. It was one of the few items that he had held dear in a form.  
When he was 9 he had finally discovered his heritage. Or part of it in a manner. Relations of the past, history made. His family taken by some half assed 'Dark Lord' that had others fearful to speak his name. Did names really hold that much power in the magical world?

Harry James Potter was 9 when he vowed to avenge his parents. 

it was only on his 10th birthday that his Arcana first flared. His first experience with the raw power, and the most memorable.  
Not in the best of ways either.

: illa vivit :

Shifting in her bed, the brunette hunched over her desk as she wrote sprawled notes through multiple pages of paper. Her eyes excited as they scanned the book on her desk. Bedroom door closed for 'personal study'. So her parents claimed jokingly. It was with little worry to the girl as she could not- in any way-contain her excitement for the news that had been brought on her 10th birthday. 

Hermione Granger, accepted into Hogwarts. A school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Or so she was told. Her family seemed to be hesitant with the regard of revealing the magical nature behind the accidents Hermione had in the past. The occasional calling of a pencil to her palm. A book floating to her open hand. Or even the fact that when she had sneezed she had turned her father's pants yellow! All of this, as told by her parents, had involved the use of magic. With her being the very one doing so!

From what little she had gathered, and her family taking her to Diagon alley to gather some resources of study. She had formed a hypothesis. Those with magic could do so without a wand, but was much harder. Seeing as how the wand enhanced one's magic. However, outbursts of magic could be seen from children due to the growing of magic within them. Seeing this as an awakening, Hermione believed that there was more to magic than there was just.. magic. If she as a muggle had no connection to a 'pureblood'. What gave her the capability to learn magic?

She almost screamed in delight as she delved further into the new magical books that her parents had gotten her. Magic, dragons, witches, flying, wizards, and a dark lords. She was as interested in all of these as she was a child celebrity. As celebrity's existed in her world, she was right to assume famous figures existed in the magical one. From Merlin to the current 'Chief Warlock'. None seemed to grab her attention as the Boy-Who-Lived. Being able to survive a killing curse was a feat unheard of. Yet surviving AND killing the current dark lord-whose name she couldn't seem to find- was what earned him his celebrity status. Harry Potter was said to be her age. Something she was curious about.  
Nonetheless, she would prove that she too could be a part of this world. Not just as some random everyday person. She was gonna leave a mark. Her mark. She was gonna prove that 'Muggles' weren't just some lower form beneath everyone.

With steeled resolve she smiled as she got back to studying.

: illa vivit :

"Ronald Weasley!"

Like a deer caught in head lights the boy froze. Broom in hand, or what was left of a broom. Time and use wearing it down to the bare necessity of it still being able to function. Surviving being handed down from oldest to youngest wearing it down to what it was when it got to him. Not wanting to complain- unable to. His eyes froze on the figure of his mother. The older woman looked at her youngest son, a frown on her face as she tapped her foot impatiently.

"Now is not time for games! You have to prepare for school-it'll come faster than you think." she began. once again starting her 'speach' Ron called it after hearing it for so long.  
What was the speech? Study and work hard of course. 

"Percy and Bill studied well and look at them now! They're doing well, as should you. So you have to study like them."

No fun and games for him, he had to focus on making a name as a Weasley.

"Fred and George are doing well in school too! They even have a name for themselves in Gryffindor. You Should focus on making one for yourself."

What else? 

Nothing else. Being the youngest son meant nothing when there was a Youngest Daughter.

A sigh and a grumbled 'Ok mum.' Led to Ron moving back inside. with a disheartened mood he went to his room to 'study'. Unlike Bill he was nowhere near graduating, seeing how he was only 10 he could only sigh as lay in his bed facing he ceiling. Percy was naturally studious and he knew that he wouldn't be able to sit down in front of a book for more than an hour. He was a doer, he was someone who acted. He didn't want to sit behind a book and read of magic spells when he could be doing them! Fred and George? Ron paused as he mumbled angrily, memories of their pranks and 'adventures' within Gryffindor were unknown to their mother other than that they had indeed made their stake and leave their mark.  
Nonetheless he wasn't Bill who dealt with danger frequently, Percy who always aced his credentials, Fred or George with their planned pranks and namesake within Hogwarts. He wasn't them. No matter what he did it wasn't what his brothers were doing, so it was something he shouldn't have been doing. He wanted so much more yet could only have so little. He glanced at the posters around his room. Dreams of playing quidditch only a dream. 

He needed Hogwarts. 

His mother, as strict as she was with him did give him a chance. Though the chance was more of just a job that she wanted her 'ronniekins' to get. Best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived. That was all his mother wanted him to be. An apparent plan for Ginny- The youngest Weasley- to have a chance with the Boy-Who-Lived. All starting with Ron's 'only' job. Befriending Harry Potter.

If that was all his mother saw his good for. He would wait to prove her wrong. 

Moving to the small chess set he began to play himself. If he treated this whole ideal like chess he could pull it off right? Befriending the 'Hero of the Wizarding World', except instead of just being there he would help. He would prove himself, prove that he was capable. Get recognition not as best friend to Harry Potter, but as Ronald Weasley: Best mate of Harry Potter. He would battle the remaining Death Eaters as an Auror besides the lad in the future. Get the girl, and achieve his own greatness.

The world was his and he'd prove it. Once he was in Gryffindor with Harry potter, Bravery and Courage would be plentiful as he took on the world with the Boy-Who-Lived beside him.

: illa vivit :

A shaking breath and a voice whispering in his ear opened his eyes. Fate would not let him interfere so easily. He could feel Fate's magic flowing through the room he lay in. 

"Trying to escape her wont be that simple Myrddin." The archaic voice echoed within his head, or was it the room? groaning in pain his eyes snapped open as for a moment he thought he saw a woman at the door, making his heart freeze as the image however disappeared.

"You may be the first to master magic, first to study and practice. Yet you are not of magic like her!" it hissed.

"No.. You don't.. You should not be here..." he rasped in pain.

"She will find your 'heir' and take back what was her gift to you!"

"No..."

"The Arcana was not yours to give to the boy! The Arcana was not yours to give to those humans! Magic was their gift and that was to be it!"

"NO!"

His hand glowed with a dark purple light, and with it in a curled fist he slammed it onto the arm of his chair. All his strength leaving him as the power churned, surged, and expelled outward. The presence gone as he let out a shaky breath. 

Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too put it bluntly. I want this story to be as original, unique, and realistic as possible.  
> Of course there will be a 'unique' tie to this, as Merlin will be playing a larger part of the story than normal. Seeing the potential of this wants me to explore more of the past while doing so in the future.
> 
> Character changes? Well I believe that Weasley Bashing is indeed harsh, and Ron deserves his side as snape got his redemption scene. I believe everyone is grey. No definitive bad or good until they truly make that step.  
> I want these characters to be Human, real, and relatable.  
> Harry is by far closest to human but that's because it'll be like that. Harry Potter Is indeed Harry Potter.  
> Yet Ron has so much more potential. He isn't the smartest, or most cunning. He is ambitious, very much so. Yet in the end he's just a friend who is brave and courageous. Yet always was overshadowed by brothers and a best friend that was a hero.  
> I'll be exploring the slight changes to their characters. Their growth. Please sit and watch these characters grow and change with me again.  
> A new story a new start after all.
> 
> I will be delving into multiple 'point of Views' but bear with me as I am new to this. Still figuring out how to italicize and center stuff haha. 
> 
> Anyway. I will also explain the background pertaining to Hogwarts' Founders, Merlin's history as well as his much deeper connection to the story. As well as 'The Arcana'. Which I think is my way of explaining Harry's growth of power. 
> 
> If you are waiting for a Harry that as all this power, keep reading.
> 
> Just know that Harry is still a boy, and that power is something he himself wont understand until much later.
> 
> I don't want to spoil anything but this is a story- See you next time.
> 
> -Kerone


	3. How everything begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year before Hogwarts - and the story that would be spoken through generations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hur Hur- Hey for another chapter!
> 
> Shout out to Dragonemerald: The first to comment on my story and well, the one to kinda get me to push myself to write the best for everyone to read and enjoy. Comments fuel me to write better, cause I know you're all still there :P
> 
> Onto the story -Kerone

A loud bang resounded through the wind. It seemed as though it was the New Years when the bangs continued. The volume increasing as the intensity only seemed to grow. Eventually growing to the level of cannon fire. One after the other, bang after bang. Yet, as it continued to resound throughout the night. No one stirred, no one seemed to notice the echoing, or the way the air shook slightly every bang.

Yet, if you were to be outside on the street of Privet Drive you would see a sleepy street in the dead of night. However, with some magical sense, trained in sensing the irregularities of the flow of magic, trained to see the difference, feeling the sheer amount of magic leaking from the house. Only then would you see.

An almost transparent sphere floated above the house, the bottom half dipping into the roof. Where to the naked eye nothing could be seen, nothing could be heard. 

Unless you entered the sphere itself, where the first thing greeting one's eyes would be the body of a boy scrambling atop the roof. A girl of equal age-if not older- floated above him, near the top of the large sphere as pale wings were spread out. Harry could tell the girl was using magic to float, though the grand gesture of Hedwig's unfurled wings, and glowing eyes of amber only pronouncing the look of distaste and shame. A flick of her wrist once again repaired the roof that was shattered under the force of an unknown cast. She had only taught Harry the most basic of spells, so these concussive blasts, repairing magic, and whatever she was using to float baffled him. The only thing keeping him from investigating and researching being his life as she cast another silent spell, aiming for the center of his chest.

"You have no wand to act as a catalyst, so you cannot project spells." she grumbled angrily as she raised a pointed finger at the boy. Harry's green eyes burning in pain as one arm held his shoulder, the other resting. "Magic flows through you as easily as water in a river. Release it through your hands! This is not projecting magic and bending it! Command what is yours! Your magic! Your Arcana belongs to you now!" a bolt of purple shot out of her index finger, giving the green eyed boy a mere moment to leap away. 

A shattering boom echoed, this one far louder, larger, and more explosive than the others. Shrapnel piercing Harry's back he only yelped in pain as his anger began to surge.  
"Command your magic! Your Arcana! It is here to serve you! Why else would you have this!"

the 10 year old stood up hastily, muscles tense as he squared his shoulders. Ever since he vowed to Avenge his parents- finding every death eater that participated to the dark lord and seeking penance and vengeance on his mind. Hedwig had insisted on teaching him. Though he did not want to originally. She had claimed that if he wanted to learn real magic. Real, raw, and powerful magic, simple yet as complex as one wished, not befuddled by the complications and uselessness of 'modern' magic. Hedwig claimed she knew more than most, if not all the current Witches and wizards, Warlocks and voodoo men, Witch doctor and druids. She claimed to not be just any owl. but a darker, more primal being. Magic was her as she was magic. That didn't make sense to him at the moment- then again he was in a magic bubble where no one knew he was using magic.

Harry snarled as another blast clipped him, a thought filling him in the moment of pain. If she was magic as she claimed. He would do what she wanted and command her.

Eyes opening with a burning fury. He could feel his wounds heal, shrappnel ejecting from his body painfully as his magic flowed through him, numbing away at the pain. Yes, his magic, his Arcana! he was starting to understand everything she had been telling him the past year. Was it the magic running through his head? Accelerating his thoughts, his understanding as the magic coursed through his nerves, his blood, his bones, his mind?

If a Patronus was drawn from your happiest moment, your magic manifested those feelings into- well, something. The magic came from him, was called and used by him. Understanding a spell is what made its effect grow. Wingardium Leviosa, one of the most basic spells he had read, was simply about raising an object: floating it. practicing- what harry believed, involved four things.

Theory, Understanding, emotion, and magic.

The theory was simple, float the object.

Understanding was vague but was simple: Do you know how it works? Well magically raised individuals were taught that it was simply-magic. However, muggles knew of science, that to raise an object is to lift or pull. 

Emotion: was the mind, the want to lift it. The need to make the object go up. When Harry learned the spell he had wanted it to go in a more pronounced direction. To his surprise he had made the book float forward, left, right, down, and began treating it like a small airship of sorts.

Magic had so much infinite potential that was forced finite by the small mindedness that a spell pertained to one job, not just multiple. 

Finally the magic that fueled everything. One needed magic to cast, one needed magic to understand the feeling. The pulling of one's stomach as they felt the magic run through them. Course through their very being and inter their fingertips as it came out. Casting whatever spell the user wished.

Magic was not meant to be taught by candid spells pre-made through centuries of use. It was meant to be ever growing, changing by the person based on their understanding. He could only grunt as he raised his arm, though feeling powerful, Harry could only feel the pain as his lungs felt as though they were on fire. His bones cracked and blood seemed to boil as the magic accelerated to the open palm. His eyes squinted as they began to bleed. However, the blood-upon leaving his body turned into a green fog- only seeming to fuel the burning eyes as they now steamed in an accursed look of pain and rage. His face twisting into that of a grimace.  
Hedwig took notice of the boy's lack of movement and sudden change quickly. 

"Harry?"

The response she got was Harry gripping his wrist with his free hand, his open palm glowing a dark royal purple as his mouth releasing a painful roar! A memory that was not his filled his mind as Hedwig took the shape of a dark silhouette: Midnight hair, Indigo eyes, and wings as black as a star less sky. A feeling of fear filling Harry as with all his might: He released the seemingly endless fuel of magic with a final shout. Words echoing with such pronounced power the very air around him shook.

"Sarlic Gremain!"

"Harry-NO!"

It was too late. As the pain exploded within him- a scream of pain following as he felt it. The tug at something, the pull of power as it released. like a flood pouring out to an extent that would have surely killed anyone.

He couldn't breath, he couldn't see, hear, only feel. Yet he felt nothing. That terrified him. Dread fueling these feelings as he seemingly- fell forward. Feeling himself fall forward- no, move forward. Then he felt a familiar sensation of magic- except. His magic hadn't all been used. Though he had used a spell- One he had no memory of learning. Magic burned within him- he could still feel it burning in his veins, fueling his blood all so painfully.

What felt like an eternity was only a moment as his eyes snapped open. 

They were in the sphere- the entire world unaware and ignorant of what had transpired.

What did happen?

"Harry.."

It was only then that he truly noticed, and saw the damage that had happened. They were indeed within the sphere- but it had been enlarged significantly. Encompassing the entire house in fact. Or, what was a house. He lay in the center of a small crater, propped up in the arms of a crying girl. Only now could he feel the pressure of the embrace as he let out a soft groan. Something he regret as Hewdig almost instantly reacted.

"Asshole!"  
"Hedw-iaaaah!" He let out a short yelp of pain as he felt her pull him into a tight hug. Her sobs lessening as she felt his breath, the heave of his chest. The silence a form of comfort between the two.

"I'm sorry-I-I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have pushed you so hard... Harry I'm sorry."

"Wh-what happened?"

she didn't answer, only pulling him closer. Eyes wide as he saw her wings had been clipped- the edges burned and smoldering purple-burn marks? His eyes scanning the older girls body as he noticed the burn marks that littered her body. Her pale porcelain skin now lined with black splotches and purple burns that glowed in the night sky. 

"What happened... To you?"

"Shhh."

"Hedwig- i'm worri-" He was cut off by a quick kiss. Gone as sudden as it happened, more of a peck if anything. Yet enough to silence the young boy. Who's face flushed yet stayed quiet as he merely wrapped his arms around her as well. It was what felt like an eternity before he could gather himself to speak

"So-"

"It was my fault your Arcana erupted...shh."

Shh he did as he pulled her closely. Not another word spoken as he only understood. They both hurt each other- yet they both were okay. That's all that mattered. The fact that Almost all of Privet Drive had been destroyed didn't matter, the two only cared for the moment they shared together. Alive and in one piece.

All that they needed.

As Harry fell asleep to the silence of each other, physically exhausted with the strain put on a body that could not withstand the magical ouput. Unaware that Hedwig's eyes burned no longer Amber but Indigo. As she waved her hand, a soft smile on her lips as her focus was entirely on the boy as the sphere seemed to shrink. In doing so, all the debris, all the destroyed mass, began to shift. Slowly- as the sphere returned close to the source of it's creation, the world began to right itself. Returning to it's state as if the night would remain the same. 

Only the people would not remain, and Harry would no longer worry of an abusive family. Harry would not need to worry either about the lives he had took without thought. Her magic could keep the farce long enough that the boy would not know.

"You're already growing up just like him- as expected of his heir." She cooed. Her hungry eyes betraying her innocent smile.

"Let's make sure that you spread the Arcana correctly. It'd be a shame if you wasted all your time, your youth, like your ancestor."

: illa vivit :

With a raised hand, fingers wiggling over dramatically she looked at the book before shouting the spell written on the book. 

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

she waited a moment before she sighed in defeat a minute later. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing. For the better part of the hour she had spent the time trying to 'cast' any spells written on the books. However was brought up with nothing- no response to her earlier random 'outbursts' of magic. grumbling she sighed- did she really need a wand for magic? In all the books she had- 4 about the history of the wizarding world, 2 in potions, and 1 'introduction to the Wonderful Wizarding world-There was no information regarding to the use of wands during the start of the magical age.

The Oracle of Delphi had no instrument for magic, but then again an oracle wasn't a wizard.

Merlin had a staff, yet accounts of a younger 'Myrrdin' had information about a mage that had neither wand nor staff- but a glistening violet blade made of magic. 

What intrigued her the most was that Godric Gryffindor, a founder of the school she'd be attending- was an avid supporter of Muggle borns, with rumor that he himself was a Muggle born indeed! Well not a rumor per say. Hermoine had another theory: Godric Gryffindor was indeed muggleborn- with the supporting action of the fact that of the other founders. He excelled in not only magical dueling but-to her shock- muggle dueling. All supported by the muggle sword in which acted as his 'wand' and magical catalyst. Being one of the few Wizards to use something other than a wand-albeit he indeed own one (In fact she had found no stories of him using said wand)

She begrudgingly closed her book.

Moving to her bed she could only sit in anticipation for more. Though she had read most of the books already- she wanted to understand the material rather than just know it. Understanding what she read was important. Especially since the best way to prove herself in the new world was to show she was indeed worth attending the school due to her ability.

No matter what world, era, or time. Prejudice existed. However, one could not argue when one saw talent or skill. Sports players had their hate and love. As did famous scholars.  
Following this thought she could already dream for the future. Friends, magical and other kids that had discovered themselves magical just like her. Learning magic, having adventures. Even saving the world wasn't far from a dream in a world of magic after all. All she had to-

freeze.

Eyes wide as a shudder shook her body. Goosebumps forming almost instantly as an intense wave swept over her. A sudden burst of energy filling her as she suddenly gasped due to the sudden fulfillment. The feeling was similar to being underwater, breathless as she was surrounded by a comforting feeling. 

All at the same a fire was sparked. Just as sudden as the wave had hit her body, it had left her and she only felt as though she was missing something. Unable to do anything other than toss and turn as she couldn't seem to understand at all what information she was just given. What feeling she had just gone through. All of which infuriated her more as she shot out of her bed. 

As though thinking about the feeling had triggered some sort of memory. A flash had appeared in the moment she had blinked. In which that moment she refused to forget and would not forgive herself should she do so.

Those smoldering green eyes. Filled with an undying fury and endless pain. Palm extended as though to project something-something she could not see directly other than a near blinding purple flash. The feeling she felt from that picture filling her with a faux feeling similar to the one she just experienced.

She did not know where this came from, or what had just happened. She hated not knowing anything, especially when it came to things she couldn't seem to get. Which only bothered her more.

She did need to figure this out or she was going to crazy.

: illa vivit :

Ronald Weasley grunted and left his room with a series of coughing. drawing the attention of one Molly Weasley, and one Ginerva Weasley as he nearly fell down the stairs in bright neon yellow pants. "MUM!" he cried as his response was only returned by a chuckle from the matriarch and full blown laughter from the youngest Weasley.

"Not funny!"

"It quite is Ron!" Ginny merely added as she continued her laugh.

"Mum!"

"Now now Ronald. It's just a prank from your brothers. You aren't dying are you?"

"That's beside the point! This is the third time this week and they're at Hogwarts!"

"Then was it really them?"

Just like that, the conversation ended. Like every other conversation he ever had, brushed aside and a remark to one if not more of his fucking siblings. grumbling he grabbed a plate before moving up the stairs to a 'spare' bedroom within the house at speeds he had hoped rivaled a broom stick. Glancing around as though it was a secret kept, he pushed the door open to the one sibling he believed he was closest too- even though it had not seemed so.

It wasn't his fault Charlie Weasley did the smartest thing and moved to Romania to get away from the family- all while pursuing a dream of studying and keeping dragons. Something Ron thought was impressive and something he could look up to. Though he was talented in quidditch- and his mother pushed him to do so, he had stayed true to gryffindor and pursued something his mother deemed 'too dangerous for her baby boy.'

As strained as it had made Charlie with his mother- they were still family, and he was still Ron's favorite sibling. 

"Hey Ron." the older Weasley spoke as he casually leaned back from the desk, quill moving on its accord as he glanced to the younger sibling.

"Morning." He grumbled as he took a seat on the made bed. "Mum's still angry about you showing up out of the blue injured." he quipped, referencing the near toxic attitude she had taken around the house albeit removing Ginny from said persona.

"She'll be fine, you know how she gets when one of us is hurt."

"Except if its me.."

The older Weasley easily caught onto the mumbled comment as he only sighed. A soft smile on his lips as he tried not to scratch his arm- a nervous tick he had picked up. 

"Ronald, she's just like that cause she expects the best from you."

"Or the most!" he protested exasperatedly. Groaning as he fell backwards onto the bed, plate now resting on his stomach as he grumbled begrudgingly.

"Cause you're the youngest."

"No." he pointedly remarked. "It's cause I'm only good at two things, Chess and bloody eating, I at least enjoy both. It's all she expects from me: except now its about befriending someone I've never met! Expecting me to act like a fool all to just make a name as a shadow!"

Charlie only sighed, scratching his head at his younger brother's rant. Sighing as he moved to the bed to sit next to the other Weasley's head. Chuckling he only crossed his arms lazily. "So you gonna follow your older brother's footsteps and leave at the first chance? Or by Merlin's beard are you going to listen to what our mother says- like every average boy your age?"

Ronald only groaned at the false condescending matter-of-fact tone Charlie had taken. merely munching on his food in silence.

Though they never showed it. They were family, brothers, and friends. Ron could always rely on Charlie as any of those three.

The two wizards unaware of the current boon of power coursing through 'marked' individuals. Each with intended effects. 

Below, in the Kitchen of the Burrow young Ginerva Weasley froze in place body going rigid as she felt a torrent wash over her. As though a quaffle had hit her in the stomach, she felt herself tense. Eyes wide as she released a silent wail crumpling to her knees. The first noise to escape her pursed lips being a wide gasp for air-no, more. Something that was no longer there. A hunger filling her. A hunger for something that seemed only insatiable. A glimpse of an emerald eyed boy, eyes seething, churning, and glowing in an intense burn seemingly staring at her.

"Ginerva darling are you alright?"

She could only hurriedly nod her head. mumbling a weak "Yes" in response as she quickly moved up the stairs to her room. A confused Weasley Matriarch left in the dining room as she only sighed. Going back to cleaning the table with confusion for her two youngest children.

: illa vivit :

Merlin coughed as he sat up. examining himself one last time. 

After the spell had been cast. Fate twisted and destiny changed. She had finally appeared. He had only had her in his life during moments of his life that was no mere coincidence. He knew of 5 moments of his life where he had crossed paths with the magical paragon. Where as he suspected there were 2 more that he had missed. 7 in total.

7 times he had crossed paths with the woman who would be known as Morgan Le Fay. A being of magic, that to the Magister's knowledge. Was one of the few masters of the Arcana itself. He had pondered these moments they had met, trying to figure out what she had planned in the grand scheme. He thought that gifting his Arcana to the young Potter, would be able to free him from the confides of the world. Yet the gods themselves seemed to think otherwise.

So he thought:

The first cross was the day he was born. Where Morgan had gifted part of her Arcana to him, pronouncing him the Harbinger of the 'Magical Age of Humanity'.

The second cross was the moment his Arcana was awakened. No memory of how other than he was merely a boy, scared of a power he did not understand.

The third cross, was as a teen. In his knowledge to understand the newfound power, began his studies and practices of what he had claimed to be 'Magic'. Where he met the woman who guided him to the start of a grand journey

Fourth: as a scholar in a kingdom. Exploring the magical world and its inhabitants. Where he first discovered the woman who was known as an Echelon of her own accord.  
The last three moments conflicted with his feelings. his mind, and his body. War tearing the land and the people who had begun to follow his steps. The first war between magical and non magical humans.

Mordred- Supported by Morgan Le Fay. Who believed that magic belonged only to those worthy and 'of magical origins'

Arthur Pendragon, a muggle in which was supported by himself: Merlin the Magister Magus. Who believed that everyone was equal no matter the standing.  
A story for another time as he felt magic begin to pool in his direction.

His guests had arrived.  
He had much to do with so little time. Could he make it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarlic Gremain: is a mixed translate of sar-which means pain. and Gremain which is rage. which is the 'cast' for the spell Painful rage. 
> 
> The context of this spell is inclined to a form of equal exchange: Pain = Power. The stronger the cast the more painful the backlash. Or the more pain induced the more powerful cast.
> 
> One of many unique spells to me introduced :]


	4. The board is set.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past is where answers lie for the present. Though the present hold the key to the future. Piece by piece the board is set. Merlin may have twisted faith and cheated destiny. That doesn't mean they can't retaliate by twisting the future as they see fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late-ish update. I got put in charge of some newbies at work so welp. However that hasn't stopped me! I scrapped so many ideas that will be added for future chapters but this is the 8-9th version? lol. Anyway. See end of chapter for more notes and ALSO! You guy's get to some power in this story:
> 
> Who would you like to see meet and interact with harry first at Hogwarts?  
> Susan Bones  
> Hermione Granger  
> Daphne Greengrass  
> Nymphadora Tonks
> 
> Also as for general smut and the likes- uh. Not yet .-.  
> Enjoy! -Kerone

[Stonehenge: The final meeting place of the True Order of Merlin Emrys (TOME)]

One by one, figures seemed to flash onto the wet grass of the english monument. Others entering by simply walking, flying, or what was thought to be any 'convential' means. The number of individuals increasing by the moment until everyone froze at almost the exact moment. 

By then, everyone present had assembled into their following 'groupings'. All eyes on the single crow that had flown to the center. While all the current occupants of Stonehenge had collected themselves among the stones. The crow was the only thing to place itself at the center, where as it raised a single wing, bringing it down with an iridescent flash. It grew in size, and it's magic swelled as Merlin Emrys made his presence known within the stone circle. His signature oak wood staff gone from his hand as he held his palm for all to see a blood red stone. A perfectly smooth sphere- that if one paid attention could see within it lay multiple layers, all as though there were multiple stones within its crystal clear casing. 

Everyone present within the grand magister bowed and knelt in the presence of the Magister Magi. Where as they could all feel his weakened state, that meant nothing when one was the father of magic, leagues ahead of any other mage. As seen by all present however, only a few individuals were able to sense something deftly wrong with their lord, their master.

The first to stand were seen as those closest to the elder mage. All standing as Merlin's Violet eyes met them. Coughing as though to signal them to relax, he merely smiled.

"Of all those to learn magic in my lifetime. You four have always stood out among your peers." His voice low, even weak if one believed it to be so. The only implication of it being false was a soft smile, and his tone of confidence.

"You make me proud to be able to have taught you what I have."

"The honor was ours" Was the unified answer.

The silence that followed was tense, only adding to the effect was the stone in Merlin's hand constant rotation. Among the followers-only a handful had stepped forward. A handful seen as those 'worthy' to do so as he had indeed personally taught them something- if not everything when it came to the world they had all but joined together.

"This stone is the key to our future." Merlin began, as his voice cut through the silence. Hushed whispers and self mumblings silenced with the flow of magic that came from the Mage's mouth. "With it our future of magic is secured. Our journey complete for knowledge. We are eternal in our legacy. This... This Philosopher Stone Shall be the origins of all of this- past, present, and future. Connecting us through karma and magic." By this, statement. Eyes widened, mouths opened, all silent yet clear. While they were all new to this world-albeit not the magical creatures-humanity only had so much information to learn in such little times. Where as a Philosopher Stone was stuff of legend. They could only admire it while it floated in the palm of arguably the most powerful mortal of their time.

"Only if you wish so." Merlin finished. Soft smile, kind eyes.

Merlin's last sentence created a doubt for some the moment they heard the words left his lips. Others rationalizing his previous words. The most powerful Magus, Seer, Druid, and Wizard was offering them a choice. Yet what did that choice exactly mean?

Connecting themselves to Merlin under him as they all were. Was a stark contrast of what he now offered. In accepting the offer he had proposed, connecting them magically, with karma? That was similar to a magical contract on a spiritual level, binding one's magical lineage: if not more!

Connecting themselves through karma meant that their souls would always be bound. The tether doing so decided by Merlin himself-yet they did not know what Merlin would decide. If anything he would outlive everyone here and thus the fate of their legacy, their heirs, their descendants. Would be bound to Merlin- not in a way a slave would be, but that whoever accepted this offer would meet him again- or a form of him. 

Their magic would be connected to Merlin- Where as the moment anyone of their descendants did come into contact- the enticement of power, allure of the magic that Merlin's heir would possess would only draw who knew what. All of this adding to one thing: What would he do in that future? What would this mean for them now?  
If Merlin taught them anything, it was a single rule: Never not know.

All in their own thoughts- Merlin beckoned forward the first four to approach him- in clear acceptance of the offer. 

"Godric Gryffindor!"

Red hair long as a lion's mane, green eyed full of steeled resolve. though tall and lean, the knightly armor he wore-as well as the wizard robes accompanying the attire, added to his build giving him a domineering presence. A proud smile on his face, hidden slightly by the small beard growing on his face.

"From humble beginnings, when we first met. I saw a boy, brave and courageous, while others were born with their magic awakened. You were merely seen as a 'Muggle', yet here you are before everyone to see. A true warrior, leader, and wizard. Willing to fight for the belief of a better tomorrow. Dauntless in your efforts I see I saw correctly. In face of danger you have shown your courage to lead, bravery to stand for what you believe is right. The sword you carry a treasure, a symbol for your power, your honor. Touch the stone so we shall one day meet again."

As Godric 'Gryffindor' followed the instructions, a brilliant flash occurred. Where Merlin took his hat and handed it to the young warrior. With wide eyes he silently accepted the hat. Looks of envy pointed to the red headed figure. "A parting gift. I think you and your friends will find it most useful for your little 'plan'" he whispered, chuckling softly as Godric retreated hurriedly.

His eyes turned downward as a he was met with a plump young woman, soft brown hair and wide, caring blue eyes. A Welsh woman by the name of:

"Helga Hufflepuff."

She could only nod her head in glee with a smile that could melt the most frozen of hearts.

"You my dear are the most loyal, honest, and hard working woman I have had the honor to teach. While others had sought to bring themselves fame, you helped others achieve so. Never have I met someone as selfless as you. I thank you and your companion-" He glanced at the badger at the woman's foot. "-For the time spent allowing me to teach someone as compassionate as you. Justice is blind yet you only see what is right. Even if that is not in your favor. You are fearless, honest, loyal."

They shared a hug as he gifted her with a golden cup. One with a unique property, as with a flick of his wrist. It had engraved itself intricately, heavily laced with a magic she would later find. "May the truth set you free."

She only hugged him, tightly as she bit back a sob and moved back. wiping her eye as she softly look at her parting gift.

Merlin could only pause as he nearly chuckled at the woman who was already standing in front of him. A stern look that could only be seen as beautiful yet slightly intimidating to the old seer. Beautiful yet austere-looking, Her black hair flowed freely as the Irish woman looked up at him- the only form of hint to her nervousness being the faint blush and biting of her bottom lip.

"Rowena Ravenclaw... The wisest woman I have had the honor to teach me some things." He laughed, his free hand glowing with the familiar feel of magic. "The most intelligent of you four. You have proven that intelligence and the power of knowledge is as right as it is wrong. Neither black or white, but grey. Your creativity has sparked ingenuity within this world, and for that this diadem is yours." 

With diadem in her hand now, he merely whispered to her. "Your pride is dangerous dearest. Please be careful. Knowledge is power with action. I wish you to find a way to pass your knowledge down. maybe the diadem might aid you for this."

She smiled, uncharacteristically laughing freely as she bowed. "I'll miss you Merlin, I seem to be the only one with knowledge of the magical circle you used." She whispered back, retreating with grace as she set the diadem upon her head.

Now, Merlin's eyes focused on the older of the four star pupils. The most dangerous of his trainee's, grown through sheer ambition and cunning to prove to be the best.  
Arguably. When he himself was brought into the knowledge of the Arcana and magic. It had been just him and those few around the world that knew of it. He knew he couldn't possible be the only one. Yet when he traveled, teaching those who had potential, leading those that could. Those people he had met and awakened them to the new world had treated so differently. Some specifically casting out those deemed of 'nonmagical origins'. After the second generation of magic folk, a form of bigotry and prejudice had formed. The Eldest wizards and their family's creating a 'pureblooded' agenda. Beginning with the most dangerous of his students:

"Salazar Slytherin." 

The man was older by a handful of years compared to the others. While they were in their late twenties and early thirties. Salazar was a man pushing into his forties, though that did not appease the man's hunger, his ambition. For he knew others did indeed have him beat in power, and certain magics. Yet he knew the application of his own to a degree where that did not matter. Cunning, resourceful, and determined: The way of Slytherin. Those three views had carried him to where he was, of course without slacking.

"My Oldest disciple, where words only say so much."

"No words can describe this honor my lord."

"Then no words. Only actions."

"I hope to see you within another life. I believe I speak for all of us-" he held his hands outstretched to the other three. "-That Hogwarts will forever hold a home for you. An ally."  
Merlin chuckled, an egg appearing with a flick of his wrists. It would be years before anyone of this generation would forget wandless magic. Yet they would, and that had saddened him. However, now was not the time. With life still in his breath he had much to do, much to prepare for the young heir Potter.

Salazar took the egg with curiosity before Merlin merely smiled. "|Parseltongue will indeed help you in the future. use it well.|"

With widened eyes, the Slytherin only choked out a weak "|yes.|"

He was sure he kept the language of Parslemouth's hidden from his teacher.

With the four of them done, gone with a loud crack to the building site of their grand 'project'. Merlin began the rest of this 'wizard's council'. Going through most-if not all of those present. All seeking the opportunity of a future where Merlin would be present. Who would not want to be connected to Merlin himself? A chance, an opportunity, all for the chance of greatness. Respect for the greatest Magister. To the Arcana, where those with power would attract those seeking it. While Merlin did make rules for magic- most wizards and witches knew near nothing about the Arcana. Unsaid rules spread between those who chased that knowledge. Though in regard to the future there were candidates that would prove most useful to Harry's journey.

Of the four founders: All would produce heir's. All with names different than their ancestors. 

Now was not the time as he took note of those who pledged.

Delphi Lovegood: A grand Seer. Prophet of the Arcana, whose knowledge regarding it was second to Merlin himself. Though with knowledge of something only few could grasp. To hold that knowledge would drive her mad through time. Knowledge's power a curse to the blonde Matriarch of a future Noble and Ancient house. 

Alucia Greengrass: One of the few ambitious witches second to Salazar. Who contrary to the belief of one's name was no druid, but a necromancer. terrifying as politically one of the must cunning of the witches and wizards present.

Maltheus Malfoy: Though not the best Wizard, as a warlock he demanded respect. Among court, among peers. No question that among his followers, Maltheus was dangerous in battle, but more so in a room with a table and drinks. the growing art of political presence showing with Malfoy's use of it. A Leader among his peers.

Narayah Black: Loyal and dangerous. Arguably the most dangerous duelist in terms second to Godric. Wild yet controlled, analytic to the point where every spell, every strike. Calculated for the most damage to person. 

As more families pledged, magical creatures swore, Merlin could only smile. The young Potter heir would indeed have strong allies for the future. Maybe there was a chance everything would work.

: illa vivit :

[ Somewhere in Germany ]

"Healm!"

A flash of indigo grew from the night sky. illuminating the dark forest around a small clearing, where amber eyes and moonlit hair watched from the sky. The light was not the only thing to attract the girl with white hair however. She knew, because she could see who was hunting that light: Who those wolves were hunting.

Harry stood still apprehensively. Body tense, he waited for the signs. His eyes held a soft glow as his entire body shifted to the noise he had heard to his right. A swift motion of him raising a scarred right hand up, he shouted the familiar spell.

"Healm!"

A flash of indigo sparked from his fingertips. His hand tensing in the familiar burn, fingers together in an open palm as his magic began to converge. In the starry sky, the dark forest glowed as a blade of pure magic- 3 feet in length hummed softly from his hand. The blade present so long as he held his hand together and fueled it with his magic. Harry knew that he could enlarge the blade or even shrink it, but knew better, especially since he knew who he was fighting. What they were capable of.

He raised his arm in a faux stance. Eye flicking to the first real movement he had seen for the better part of his hour running. The silence cut with a feminine voice, soft yet stern, holding malice and verdict.

"The child seeks to fight now. I see you realize that you are cornered in the open plains, wise of you to know when you can no longer run."

"Nonsense Shikari. The trial is over if I outrun you till morning, or best you in combat."

A snarl echoed through the clearing.

"Your hubris as a 'hero' will be your downfall Pup."

"Let it be when it comes. I'm not meant to die here."

A mass of black emerged from the tree line. Harry turning in anticipation as for the first time of the night. He saw his hunter who had finally been caught in the moonlight. Black, coarse fur covering her body. Golden eyes watched him as her pointed ears twitched. Long snout turned to him as she let a soft breath go. Eyes narrowing. She had him this time. Her 8 foot tall frame looming over Harry's soon to be 11 year old self. A toothy smile formed on her wolfish face, dagger like claws tensed and raised in anticipation to leap.  
Shikari Shadowfang, Alpha of the Shadowfang pack. the most prominent group of lycanthropes in Germany. Though the reason being their tightly knit group scattered through German country land. A unique experience, as werewolves had a unique way of traveling undetected through the country, as well as finding other 'wolf packs' or clans. Something he would surely take note on after he completed their 'trial by fire'. One of the few ways to garner favor with them. The only one he could do to prove himself.

He was forced back into focus as she moved. Powerful legs kicking forward in a dive. Moving as a blur low on the ground. Harry had only a moment to react. raising his right hand and bringing it down in a heavy swing. 

By every means, Healm-the blade of magic- should cut through most things. It was considered magic at its most volatile state: raw power condensed and personified. Yet as he struck down, Harry felt an unfamiliar pull. Striking not to defend himself, no. A bloodlust suddenly spiked from him, let it be his magic or Arcana. In the moment, his strike was to kill.

To a werewolf, to kill in battle was different from killing to hunt. To kill with fervor of bloodlust was to cross a line. To Shikari, who's nature had been twisted by magic: Arcana and Primara. She felt the change in that moment. Where she decided, in an exchange where it would be a life for a life. She would live to see another day. Man or woman in front of her, magical or mundane. She would not hesitate even if it was a child in front of her. For the threat to her life was a threat to her clan.

Cause no child was like this one in front of her.

With raised claws, magic flowing through her as she pulled on what was left unused for so long- fueling the animal within her rather. She let out a howl as she struck. Magic flaring, feeling the familiar rush of a spell flow through her. 

Shikari howled. 

: illa vivit :

Hermione once again tensed, eyes shooting open as she shot up from her bed and fell. The same feeling, magic passing into her, filling her. A vision of the same black hair, green eyes, and scarred arms releasing magic unseen in any books she had read. However, suddenly the image changed as it slowly had. His face, becoming wolfish, his smirk now with a large canine. Despite her mental protests she found herself suddenly found the individual shirtless, fur growing as wolf ears grew on his head. Claw like hands stroking her cheek as she let out a meek squeak as he pulled her into an embrace. Closing her eyes as comfort filled her, then disappeared.

Ever since the first 'wave', she had felt her magic surge. More and more her magic surged and grew. She found herself able to sleep easily by flowing her magic, waking up with renewed vigor to study. She could memorize books to a degree that she knew magic was at work.

However every 'wave' had its positives with only one drawback: An emptiness that bothered her. She realized that Hogwarts would be forever before she made her first friend, or made any attempts at magic. The closest she was going to get to feeling that magic had to be at Hogwarts. If it wasn't she'd find out from there.

she had to or she'd go mad.

: illa vivit :

Daphne let out a gasp and a groan as she shot into the air, then fell. These surges filling her with more magic, her occlumency was actually improving unnaturally faster because of this. However, from power desires grew. Damned desires.

Glowing green eyes, scarred hands and arms oozing power, scarred body tense from battle. Chest heaving through labored breaths, arm's raised showing off muscles that had only more potential to grow. Eyes hungry for power, pulling her into a haze as she drowned in those fiery eyes. The only difference was now, instead of it being a boy, this was a demon. The boy's body changed as horns formed on the boy's forehead, devilish wings sprouted, a demonic spade tail growing as the boy smirked. She suddenly felt a tug as she felt him, felt his body as he pulled her to him, tilting her chin to his. Raising her head and- disappearing. 

She let out an exasperated groan. Fuck.

: illa vivit :

Bellatrix black let out a pleasured moan. Tonight was her night, as even in Azkaban no dementors could ruin her mood. They were too scared of her-no-of the magic filling and surrounding her. Euphoria filling her as she began to dream as her hands began moving downward. An image in her mind, clear and cold.

A man lounging on a throne, black clad robes in the finest of-was that basilisk scales? Sexy. A dark green mask on his face as the most piercing of gazes looked down at her, eyes glowing a cold green that seemed to hiss power.

Yes, this was not her dark lord. Her dark lord could never funnel magic to her. Then again why did that matter since he was 'dead'.

Indeed this new, future dark lord. She couldn't wait for the moment she was on her knees in front of him in person.

: illa vivit :

Luna Opened her eyes with a frown. Another not dream? Did it count as a vision? Every time she felt the now familiar magic flow through her she would glimpse into the future. All of a single man. Peculiar indeed.

Long black hair, Body scarred yet filled with magical runes carved into the skin, into the body. Muscles tense as he stood in front of her. Despite the intimidating status of being taller, clearly physically equipped, with a wand that was clearly not a wand but also clearly thicker, and far bigger between his thighs. A kind smile was on his face. Eyes a soft green reminding her smooth jade. An embrace later-then gone.

She wasn't exactly lonely, she wasn't alone after all. If these were indeed future sights, as peculiar as they were. They showed she was far from alone. She smiled, ignoring the heat growing within her, as she focused the new magic to her mind. A dream of pudding should fix the heat that bothered her.

: illa vivit :

Tonks shot up, covered in a thin layer of sweat as her hand immediately dipped downward. Fuck she was soaked. She could only tiredly close her eyes and pray she could fall back asleep. These dreams were becoming more urgent. These wants. Desires. 

An older student-no teacher. Tired of her being so testing. Pinning her down, pulling her hair. Cold green eyes filled with rage and lust. Determined to put her in her place.

Shit.

: illa vivit :

Narcissa Opened her eyes wide with shock, her husband asleep beside her. She needed these dreams to stop.

Or she'd go mad searching for this green eyed, black haired gentleman that would seduce her as he always did.

: illa vivit :  
Harry woke with a harsh gasp for air. Body shooting upright almost instantly, garnering a reaction of intense pain filling his chest as he lurched forward. Impulsively yelling out pained curses. 

"You need to get yourself under control Harry."

His head snapped to the voice, Hedwig giving a look that could kill.

"Drawing from your magic indirectly draws your Arcana. The more magic is used the more you end up drawing from your Arcana. Especially since your Arcana is... Volatile and open. Remember this. The more you push yourself the faster you'll lose control."

Hedwig scoffed. "18 times within the handful of months is progress."

Harry could only sigh as Hedwig enveloped him in a soft-if not protective-hug. Firm yet gentle as to not cause the young boy pain. Something that was far to common for his liking. Then again- he was supposed to be on the receiving end of a magical visit. Something he found funny considering he was from the mundane at the moment.

After the incident at Privet Drive, Hedwig decided a change of scenery was needed. Though he had no idea how the 12 year old girl convinced his aunt's family. He didn't complain.  
Three months he had spent on an island off the coast of India. Where a magical grouping of serpent-humans had remained hidden from the world through something they called the mist. It was there he had learned two spells that drew on his Arcana- Healm: the blade of magic, and Brim Wyrm: the Serpent of the Sea. That with Sarlic Gremain made his core spells, as Hedwig told him that when he obtained a wand it would be easier to cast 'novice' spells. Something he found funny, as wandless magic was less complicated it was meant to be. 

The Naga said otherwise. Serpentine like creatures, that over time had evolved to a degree that if one saw them in water, you could mistake them for humans momentarily. Though they did live in the mainland, those were tribes. The island where Hedwig had took him was something different. Known in the eastern magical world as: The City of Snakes. A city it was, ruled by the King of Serpents Vasuki. Where magic was in their blood as blood was in their water. A term he himself did not understand but learned to roll with. 

It was on the island where he learned of his capability of speaking the tongue of the World Serpent: Parseltongue. He learned to cast wandless magic on the island because of that. Learned how magic was one with the world as he was one with magic. Odd but fitting.

The reason a wand, a staff, or a weapon was needed as a catalyst, a tool to cast. Was a surprisingly simple reason that would almost have never struck his mind. It wasn't the immediate control of magic, no it indeed did help. Anyone with a certain amount of power and control of their magic could wandlessly cast: But it would be weaker- lesser than a spell cast through a wand for one immediate reason. To the degree that most who tried got nothing due to the spell being so weak.

There was no outlet. No catalyst.

A wand acted as an exit route for one's magic: Said outlet or catalyst.

The Naga had explained to him. Everyone had a mind, a body, and a soul. One's soul was their magic, one's mind was their control, and one's body was the container. Thus when one died, their soul would leave to find peace. No body to hold it, no mind to control it. Thus was why scars were seen as powerful, and showed respect among those who flirt with death.

Similar to how eyes were the window to the soul, it would show one's use of magic by emitting a glow. Rune's carved into one's body would glow with magic. Scar's shine in battle as stories of the Naga proclaimed of a young mage: Who's body was riddled with scars glowed like a scion of power in the battlefield. Something Vasuki took note of when he had tasted Harry's blood. Power to that of raw, primordial magic. Powerful as it was dangerous, just like 'Myrrdin' himself.

Magical creatures had natural outlets for their magic: Claws, Mandibles, Wings. Human's body over time had relied on a catalyst-wands and staves. So they did what was seen as logical to for them. If a scar was large enough, it could act as said outlet needed to cast wandless magic without any 'weakened casting'.

Harry Bathed his arms in venom.

Now was it his smartest moment? Of course not.

Was it his dumbest? Of course not-he was 12, doing something even worse was bound to happen in his life considering how-according to his research-politics, a magical world, and evil dark lords kind of did in fact exist. So no, it was not his dumbest.

By the third month on that isle, though mastery of wandless magic was easier. The stronger the spell, the more difficult it was to cast without one. Especially using spells that drew on the Arcana through magic: The three he knew- spoken in the old casting language, he actually didn't know what to exactly call them. Old Spells? Ancient Magic?  
He didn't have much time to think about it before he found himself where he was now: The Black Forest, Germany. The fourth month spent searching for the hidden settlement, apparantly hidden with strong magic-everything short of a fidelius. 

A stone keep hidden within the forest was where they found the Shadowfang Clan. Ruins to the mundane, and to the magical world nothing but an abandoned fortress. Something the lycanthropes knew and used to their advantage. Though small, a werewolf was by all means powerful. Yet there was plenty to learn from them. Before he were to go to Hogwarts, Hedwig pushed for Harry to know how to defend himself. What better way than werewolves right?

"The pup is awake." A tired voice rang, where a boy- not much older than Harry leaned casually at the door. et black hair swept in an untamed mane on his head that rested just on his shoulder, or would if he hadn't tied it up in a loose ponytail-mantail? Boytail? "this is the.... seventh time failing Shikari's 'Trial By Fire'?" he said, a laugh threatening to break from the teen's face.

"Don't call me pup when you're older than me by 4 years Grayson" 

"Alas Harry, The Shadowfang accepts anyone who is already turned. Not wannabes"

"I'm only here to train."

"The only training I ever see is you with the white haired witch."

"She teaches me."

A snort. "I don't think teaching involves her mounting your face like a horse and-"

The two's banter was cut short by a cough that could arguably be considered a growl. A woman emerging from the tent entrance with a scowl on her beautiful face. If one word described this woman it would be Exotic. Golden eyes centering with a intimidating glow on her dark skin, white dreadlocks falling over her shoulders and her back like a wild river rapid. Arms crossed she gave a pointed look at Grayson as he looked at the ground, muttering a weak 'yes' before leaving the tent. 

"Your magic is still uncontrolled. Worse than the control of even our youngest and weakest of pups. Turning you now would result in you going... Feral" 

"I'm sorry." Harry could only say. They had this talk one too many times.

"Tell me what you have learned of the world of wolves in your stay here." she all but growled angrily.

"There are two types of clans and tribes among werewolves, an unspoken third."

"Good. First tell me what you've learned about the Wolf People you have learned to call your pack."

"Yes alpha." Harry grumbled. Wincing at the pain from his chest before getting up, proceeding to change. Loose and baggy sweatpants, sleeveless gym sweater, and of course barefoot. This was considered normal wolf clothing, so when one transformed they would still be wearing clothes. To an extent.

"During the Time of Merlin, two elder clans emerged: Whitemane and Greyback. Whitemane was a druid who in an attempt to understand the animal within became the first perfect Animagus-not only being able to become the animal but have the animal become him. A true 'Lycanthrope'. Where as Greyback was a Wizard who had failed this transformation- his instinct becoming wild, feral. He lost himself-unable to control his Arcana- his magic corrupting into an animalistic, primal state, becoming the first 'Wargen' which later became Worgen, but nonetheless they were the first two werewolves. The magical community only sees werewolves, not Worgen and Lycan."

"You remember pup, well done. But everyone remembers, while little know." she scoffed unapprovingly, eyes watching him.

Harry's mouth twitched as he slowly began to stretch. Shikari had always been like this since he met her, then again. She was the Alpha for a reason.

"I do know, that their line continued, however becoming obscured through history. Whitemane founded the 'Will of Wolves'. The first official tribe of clans, Druids, masters of the wolf. Those who could change from man to wolf, wolf to man, or embody the best of both and become Lycan. Attune to their magic they kept hidden from the world. While Greyback became the more common of werewolves seen: Those who are seen as cursed. Being bitten by a wolf means one thing- the corruption of one's magic, then the Arcana."  
"Well done pup." She said after a stifling moment of silence. "I am told you will be leaving for your magical academy. However I realize from multiple sources they teach magic, but nothing involving the art of Druidry, So in your accompanying summer we will be seeing you." Shikari held out her palm, a soft yellow glowing as a glowing orb. "Sunne Lieg, the flame of the sun. Once you return for the summer, assuming you complete the trial by fire. The path of the druid will be open to you. As will the arts of balance, feral transformation, and restoration." Clenching her fists a flash that could only be described as a flare of light exploded within the tent. Forcing Harry to cover his eyes from the blinding light. 

"This final test when you leave is simple. Mother Earth speaks of secrets of old, you will make your way to France, then back to Britain in time for your parchment of acceptance to the Academy belonging to warts of hogs. Time is of the essence pup. Only a month, on foot."

"Consider it done Alpha."

"Oh- to train Grayson, you will be racing him. He of course can transform while you use your magic. However you leave at dusk."

Harry sighed. Shit.

: illa vivit :

Werewolves in general had increased strength, recovery, and magical potential all for the reasons of their turning: As a bitten 'Worgen' or a druid 'Lycan'. Lycanthropes, with their control of the transformation, and understanding of animals aided and ease the process. Which was the reason they were dangerous- animal instinct, with increased senses, recovery, and physicality only added to the fact that as werewolves: they could cast, think, plan, control themselves. Worgens tended to be wizards or witches- with the occasional mundane who lacked the capability to do so. Harry believed these were the more dangerous forms of werewolves. Uncontrolled, wild, and unpredictable they by all means were more animal than man. Then again, their danger lied in that. While those who followed Whitemane's teaching of solitude and balance, Greyback's unpredictable, born through blood and battle style made those who followed that, terrifying for a wizarding world unprepared for such a 'savage' fighting style. Even without spells a werewolf was still a werewolf.  
Grayson was living proof however, that a mundane turned could awaken their magic. Able to study Druidry and effectively control the wolf within himself. A mundane whose family had moved to Europe from the states had been bitten as an eight year old boy. Who in turn was found by a Shadowfang clan member and brought to Germany as to not result in a werewolf growing dangerously in a mundane filled area and being hunted like an animal.

It was no surprise when for the umpteenth time he casually passed Harry's magically reinforced leaping and sprinting self while he smirked that fucking smirk.  
"If you want to be a wolf start acting like one!" he barked as his furred legs kicked powerfully off the dirt, a flash of a purple sweater being the only hint in the dawn of the wolf boy. A steady lead forming from the two. Harry fueling more magic into his body, his legs and feet, feeling the magic tense in his muscles as he kicked off a rock with a low sounding boom. slowly lessening the distance. Above them a snowy owl watching with amusing eyes.

Grayson turned his head momentarily, his smirk turning into a slight frown. "Magic? Two can play that game Harry!" Black fur growing as a soft purple glow surrounded him entirely, disappearing as his fur took a purple tinge. Wolfish features formed, eyes glowed, and ears grew as he let out a howl of laughter. He sped off, Harry yelling curses as the distance only widened.

: illa vivit :

Fleur Delacour let out an angry, exasperated shout, yell? Maybe scream? She was too angry to care, storming out of her family's chateau. Another damned meeting for 'potential' marriage candidates. 14 years old was considered a relatively good time for these things. But for the love of morgana they were tiring. Especially since most potential suitors came to her family for one word in particular. Veela. Of course the Delacour's were a prominent French family, but she refused to marry someone she did not choose. These 'marriage meetings' were familiarities she simply had gotten tired of. Her allure making things even more difficult as most men would turn to drooling messes. The occasional potential man not making it past her first advances. 

It was all simply put, an annoying road with almost no end until she herself was an adult. four long years she had to deal with drooling boys and older, sleazy fools.  
By the time she had finally stopped to smell the roses, relax, breath, and let a sigh of relief escape her lips. She had found herself in the gardens, a large fountain and pool of water surrounded by flowers and a small maze, simple yet elegant. One of the few areas in Chateau Delacour that was close enough to the edge of the wards and far from the castle she could consider herself outside of her 'world'. Taking a seat on one of the benches closest to the pond of water. Eyes angrily closing as she tried, really tried, to calm down, control her allure. 

Being able to do so took 30 minutes, as frustrating as it was she let out a sigh as she finally perked up for the better half of her day, starting now.  
Of course life of a witch was never that simple. After all, magic, monsters, and magical creatures, herself technically included. However, before it even happened, the change that would haunt her. She turned as she felt the magic seep around her. 

An ocean, a tidal wave, surrounding her, enveloping her own allure, drowning. Eyes wide open in shock as she was thankful she was sitting down, trying to stand she only lurched forward onto her hands and knees as she gasped. Her magical sense entering an overload of sorts as she searched for the source of such potent aura.  
Fuck.

Feeling her face flush and body heat up. She didn't know if she was seeing what she saw. Or if this was a figment of her imagination. Nothing had this much raw, potent power, let alone in the form of magical presence at the age the person appeared to be.

A boy, younger than her by two or three years by that. Messy black hair whipped backward as though he had just gone through a wind tunnel. Crouched on one knee, one hand on the ground in a gesture similar to a muggle 'superhero'. A singed sleeveless sweater revealing a toned body belonging to someone older, yet seemed natural on the boy's body. Glowing green eyes burning with power and magic as he let out a strangled cough. By all appearances she would've believed him to be her age or a year younger. Yet his magic belonged to that of someone years younger, startling her as he stood, seemingly unaware of her presence as he let out a howl of victory.

"Fierlen Springan! I jumped!" He roared victoriously, pumping a fist into the air, his voice clearly belonging to an eleven year old boy. "Hedwig was right, it isn't apparition, its like leaping through space, bending it, pushing it. A lot better than apparition indeed." He flexed his arms as a soft glow surrounded him. Fleur feeling the magic roll off him in waves. Similar to when one went swimming, when you got out the water you were no longer submerged-in this case, in magic- but you had water coat you in a thin layer before 'drying'. Then again he wasn't the only one figuratively 'wet'. The air around him, powerful yet far from noble. English- British? Maybe American with how he acted, no class, not needed for someone like him.

Standing on trembling legs. She had to gather the will to speak in such commanding presence despite the boy's nonchalance. "And you are?"  
The boy's head snapped to her in shock- eyes wide as the glow and burn dissipated. A soft green that showed kindness and warmth, yet his body's reaction was neither of the two as she found herself pinned to the ground with his right arm raised in a threatening claw action. His left arm pinning her neck as she let out a shocked gasp from the surprising physical strength. 

He looked conflicted for a moment, as though something happened that should have. "How did I not.. " in a moment he leapt back as a red spell flashed where he was, a loud crack echoing as it smashed into the ground. "Why is my magical sense... Wards? Where-What?"

"What- were you doing to my daughter Monsieur." A female voice all but growled. A Wave of magic encompassing the garden. Fleur's wide eyes a short of breath calming as another Veela's aura filled the area. An older woman, with platinum blonde hair, streaks of white and silver all pinned into a bun, blue eyes, stared menacingly at the boy.  
His green eyes hesitated. Flicking between both women before he muttered something about Magical sense, wards, and Mage sight. Questions filling her before the boy leapt backwards again as a spell was released from the wand of her mother's wand. Yet the boy didn't return to the ground as he all but vanished silently into the air as his arm seemed to rip the very space behind him.

: illa vivit :

Apolline Delcaour, though half veela had far more magical sense than most witches in France. Her allure even more dangerous than her daughter's. Yet, as she felt an archaic magic fill the manor grounds, all without triggering a single ward. She had little time to properly excuse herself from the shattered attempt to calm down angry suitor's, leaving it to her husband as she singled out the only other Veela's aura being drowned by such oppressive presence. Thankfully sweet Gabby was asleep, but that did nothing for the fear growing for her eldest.

So to say she was surprised when the 'threat' that bypassed the extensive wards, nearly drowned the entire manor grounds-except the manor, protected by even more wards-Such magical aura belonged to what seemed to be an 11 year old boy. However it was shocking to find that the flood of magic abruptly stopped as the boy preemptively dodged her hex without a second thought. Her and her daughter's allure seeming to have no effect as the boy only looked confusedly as though he was lost. Confused on why they were here as though he didn't just appear out of the blue, even worse as he began mumbling something, ignoring the two.

"What! Were you doing with my daughter Monsieur.." She hissed, though it came out as a frustratingly husky growl due to the magic finally hitting her like a freight train. His magic had already left a mark on her, and with a glance at Fleur, she could tell it was affecting her as well. So she quickly shot out another hex. Only for him to disappear in thin air. Leaping backwards, scarred arms ripping through the air as she blinked, the boy gone.

She was on her knees holding fleur, letting out an exasperated sigh of relief. Peculiar. The faint hum of the boy's magic remaining in the air around them. She only smiled at the safety her daughter was now in. However that did not change the fact that his magic, the boy's magic she would be unable to forget.  
Maybe it was best not to tell her husband?

: illa vivit :

Harry let out a grunt as his arm tore through the space behind him, turning as though he was swimming to let his other arm swipe through the empty space he now was in. A soft, almost inaudible rip sounding as he plopped onto the ground in none other than Privet Drive. 

What the honest fuck.  
Grayson had a full day's lead on him. So in a last ditch effort decided to try 'Fierlen Springan' A distance leap. Unlike Apparating which required knowledge of the location to go, the leap just needed to know the distance, direction, and general destination. So when he thought of 'French location filled with dense magic. He didn't expect to leap through magical wards and end up in some Frenchman-woman's home. 

A groan escaping his lips he trudged through the door of the house before being pushed against the wall. Hedwig's amber eyes gazing into his before sighing. 

"Your occlumency is weak. You tried new magic." it wasn't a question.

"I did new old magic?" He said in a matter of fact tone.

"Hmm. Who's the blonde you pinned onto the ground? So you like French women? Though I thought the allure would bother you I didn't think it'd be to this degree."

He coughed as he avoided her eyes. Before she smirked.

"Looks like someone needs to be punished, but also rewarded for learning how to leap." She began pulling him up the stairs by the collar of the hooded sweater. "Also a congratulations on beating Grayson by a full week." Pinning him to the wall as her hand travelled downward, skimming the muscle of his chest with a devilish smirk. "The French women did help by blasting you with their allure... Maybe I should teach you more than just orally then."

The door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spells:  
> Healm- the blade of magic roughly translate to sword. a single command, using the Arcana as its source and magic as its catalyst to create a physical weapon similar to a corporeal patronus. However- the magic can damage the user if used for prolonged periods of time. Similar to a weapon heating up after such uses. The longer the spell, the more magic needed. If no magic- it draws from the Arcana- however drawing directly through the Arcana results in damage to one's magic. As you are 'draining the source of the river directly'.
> 
> Brim Wyrm: Conjures a magical serpent made of liquified magic, thus not classifying as 'water' magic unless used with water specifically. The size of the serpent is decided by the amount of magic used, or water obtained. However, to control the snake to such a degree of 'full control' varies to a Mind : Magic ratio of 5:1. Or the chance of the snake turning wild is high. To solidify the snake however is only a 3:1 ratio of Mind : Magic. 
> 
> Sunne Lieg: Sun's Ember, commonly a druid spell since it draws from nature- it as seen as the most common druid spell as it only needs sunlight to cast. The heat and power of the spell determined by magical capability as well as the time of day.  
> However regardless of time of day it can be used as a bright source of light.
> 
> Druid arts:  
> Feral: Bestial Transformation/Transfiguration, becoming one with the animals and the animal becoming one with you.  
> Balance: Sun and Moon cycles dictate the balance of magic. Spells attuned for the time of day and balance of magic and nature energy: Arcana and Primara. The hardest path.  
> Restoration: Healing through the world.
> 
> Fierlen Springan: Distance Leap, Vorpal Jumping. while we see disapparating as squeezing-or pulling yourself through a tube and travelling through a crack, bending space. You tear space and push away, a tearing sound being the audible queue as it is instead based on Distance, Direction, destination being generalized. The Idea being more dangerous as you could tear through a wall and splinch yourself. It is more painful mind you.
> 
> SO there it is ladies and gents. Kinda oofy, but then again I haven't done any world building in a while so yeah. Also deciding what to put now and do later has been tough. anyway comment and if you have any guesses on who the founder's heirs are! Take a guess! Comment who should get first greetings with the 'Boy-who-lived'.
> 
> Any questions ask away! -Kerone
> 
> (no beta cause yeah .-.)


	5. First contact, fate's design

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate's design is complicated as it is simple. Years of years of planning and action. Where one does their job without even knowing. All according to fate.
> 
> Death only laughs as in the end it all comes back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll stick to updating once or twice a week. Based on how my life gets, but enjoy! :]
> 
> See the end for notes. Where you'll get your first 'excerpt from Myrddin'. a little extra way to help you guys learn what there is to the world.
> 
> What do you think Fate has in store for our young hero? 
> 
> Enjoy! -Kerone

[Myrddin's Tomb]

Merlin let out an awkward cough. Of course he'd end up here. Looking at the expansive white nothing as it took the form of a council room with a single round table at the center. Merlin glancing at the three figures seated, eyes on him like predators. He found a mirror to his right with a raised eyebrow, of course that mirror would be here. He checked his reflection quickly before turning his attention to the three powerful presences. It was odd to be in a younger body, though he wouldn't have complained. It was good to be young again.

Smiling a cheeky smile he bowed courteously, if not- a little mockingly to the figures.  
"Mistress Fate, Death, Morgana Le Fay. To what do I owe the pleasure of purgatory and your presence?"

Morgan's Indigo eyes flared in anger, standing as she slammed her clenched fist into the table, cracking it with violet colored Arcana. "Do not act like this to me Myrddin!" She growled. Two emotions on her face, pain, hurt, anger, rage, all to him. Why did his chest hurt?

"What do you mean my lady?"

Death scoffed, running a pale hand through his onyx hair. "I told you no human was meant to have the Arcana, awakening it enough to use magic was all you should have done. but no, you had to fall-" His head fell of his body. "-Ouch. You hurt me."

Morgana's arm, raised from cleaving Death's head lowered. Her eyes that of an angry goddess, beautiful yet could erase you from existence as she pleased. "You... Mortal." She spit at Merlin, as though that was the clearest insult she could come up with. "Had the audacity to take what I gave you. A part of my Arcana... A part of me!" She choked out, the room filling with potent magic, raw Arcana. "And give it to some other mortal boy! For what!" A shockwave shook the very room. Fate looked amused, while death grunted as his head fell off his shoulders from the sudden outburst. "It was not yours to give!"

Merlin moved to open his mouth, to give reasoning to the one who gave him the chance to walk the path of magic, who taught him, who loved him. Something he during his entire living life, never returned. So with wide eyes he realized he could not find his voice. His mouth open, but no sound coming out. His eyes panicked for a moment.

Morgana clenched her jaw. Her eyes softening momentarily. "You have twisted faith in hopes of ignoring it. Cheated death by crossing a line of mortal and magic, for that you are no longer human. Lastly, giving my Arcana that I gifted you. A sign of the love I had for you. You broke your vow and lost yourself. For that my heart cries. Using forbidden magic- Fel magic, demon magic, for this punishment will be swift."

Fate stood, her cold eyes on his. "You are protected by the Arcana you still hold- bound by the Fel's grasp. However your heir is not. To prevent the danger you have cast, the world you heir would know will change. A fate worse than yours. For he will know pain. Learning loss through love. He will know death, as you Myrddin cannot die. Arcana now immortal, The Potter shall know fate's cruelty. Know death's grasp. And achieve penance of Morgana's stolen Arcana."

Death coughed, adjusting his tattered cloak with a sickly grin. his eyes-pitch black sockets-raised in amusement. "He will know that unlike his predecessor, death cannot, and will not be avoided." He sneered. "He will have already lost his first family, though who's to say what death has in store for his future."

Morgana eyed Merlin's silent form. Her eyes clouded as she looked away. "Enjoy Purgatory."

Merlin closed his eyes in response.

: illa vivit :

Remus Lupin by all means was far from regular- even by wizarding standards. After all, werewolves weren't common in the magical community. Something he found interesting since he would always find werewolves other than himself, who would take notice of him, then disappear leaving a faint trail. Then again, werewolves were secluded even in the wizarding world.

He didn't like the fact that he was haunted by his lycanthropy. It was something he had learned to live with. It was after all his curse, something for him to control, or so help him if he couldn't. It didn't bother him as sickly ass he was, tired, or occasionally: drunk. It helped. After he had lost control a time after the death, betrayal, and imprisonment of his close friends-family even. He had slowly lost himself. The first time he truly embraced the wolf within, the monster, and he reveled in the power, the capability. Until he took the life of an innocent muggle and his family.

That changed him. Realization dawning that his entire life he might not ever be able to control what he had tried so hard too, and grim acceptance was all that he could do in the face of that knowledge.

Yet he knew he could still do right. Still do good.

So when Dumbledore had decided to let him be the one to find James' son, as apparently their owl's could not find the boy, and no response came from the family housing Harry. It was with hurried acceptance he found himself back in Britain. However not expecting Harry to find him. Then again, there he was, following a curious eleven year old boy down the familiar Diagon Alley.

As mature as Harry had seemed to Remus had first met him at Privet Drive. Harry was still a boy, and at the notice of a family friend held close to the child. The reason he couldn't go near Harry growing up was indeed his curse, but also Dumbledore advising so under the claim of prophecy. Something he had no control over. After explaining this, Harry had only smiled. 

"If your my parent's friend uncle, I understand. Were family, don't worry to much."

That melted his heart and the boy's kindness. God what a kid, Lily and James would've been proud.

Yet there was something bothering him, like an itch that he couldn't quite place. A sneeze that just would not happen. An odd feeling. Familiar yet strange. All of it on Harry. Following him easily in the crowd as he was wearing... questionable clothing even of some muggles. his Sleeveless sweater and-joggers he called it? Making him stand out like a sore thumb with figures covered in cloaks seemed wary of him. No- what bothered him was Harry's smell, far from unpleasant, he did smell like cinnamon. The smell was faint, a few days old- maybe weeks. But Remus new that smell after years of learning to avoid or track certain individuals.

Werewolves.

Remus only let out a sigh- James, your son was in some trouble. Taking after you way more than he should have. He saw an almost invisible glow from Harry's hand. Wait, what was that? Remus could only let out an audible groan. What was all of this?

: illa vivit :

Harry expertly weaved through the crowd, occasionally using magic to have some people move away from him. Subtle, and to most people, unless trained specifically or attuned to magic, it was invisible. Magical creature's especially would notice, but due to the discrimination there was nearly no magical creatures nearby. Of course other than Remus- though it was odd, the man was a werewolf, yet he was sickly. Most werewolves he had met had been near paragons of health. At the rate Remus was heading- he'd be following the steps of Greyback, becoming a Worgen before balancing himself and achieving true Lycanthropy. A shame if it were to happen. Remus was growing on him. The thought of him going mad sent a small chill down Harry's back as he couldn't think about it anymore. He would not be losing anyone anymore.

Among his father's friends. Remus was arguably the most studious, and his capability in magic was only snuffed due to his encounter with Fenrir. Fenris? Whatever his name was, he'd have to take Remus to Shikari, maybe then he'd get better. Maybe then if he was able to best the Trial by Fire he would then hunt down Greyback's heir and end the line with him and his followers.

Right now, Remus and Sirius was the closest he had to family. He did seriously need to get uncle Black out of Azkaban though. Maybe he could just get him out himself? No, he didn't know the Patronus spell. Let alone the archaic version of the spell. 

No one would get in the way of family this time. Even if not by blood, Remus was his uncle, and Sirius his god father. He'd get his family back. He knew Sirius was innocent, for the most part. His whole send off to Azkaban was of shady dealings. Especially since Hedwig had bluntly told him of inner workings of the Wizengamot. What was this Dumbledore even doing? Was it because of this prophecy?

He abruptly stopped as he let out a cheeky cough. Realizing his deep thought had let his magic trail. It wasn't too noticeable, but definitely so to those attuned to magic- or trained to do so. 

He entered the shop he had stopped at- he didn't exactly need the wand, but at this rate it was just formalities. After all- he only really needed to go to Gringotts after this.

: illa vivit :

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. Her parents were dentists, so the money they made was decent, not too little, nor too much. Yet in the wizarding world- even according to the transaction of Galleons to Pounds, the discrimination was clear to 'muggles' in some shops. Frustratingly she glared at her trunk- now full with an early day's worth of shopping. It was good to go early and get the last thing's she needed for the school year. More or less she only did need her wand now.

Magic was however- crazily expansive. With the waves that hit her, surging her magic. She had been able to pick out individual's magic. Let it be as an aura, or when they did cast or use a spell. Those she could pick up on had to be powerful of sorts. It appeared that all those instances where the wave of magic hit her had grown her magic. Or to her beliefs, a magical sense of sorts. Most wizards held feint aura's or magical presence. Of course that didn't mean that some wizard's and witches didn't have any. 

According to her research she had thought put why. The general magical public: The general percent held little to no magical presence. Unless trained to do so- or magically talented, the most aura or magical presence pertaining to a single individual was then a thin layer- a soft glow. Similar to the way someone grabs your attention, like when someone walks by and you glance at them pass. Those belonging to Noble Houses seemed to hold this type of magical presence more commonly. A passive sign of aristocracy, power, and wealth was of course held with one's magic. 

However it was when she discovered the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight.' Where according to the 'Pure-Blood Directory' were the families in Britain that were still truly pure-blood, of origins dating to the time of the birth of magic. It were these families that naturally held more magical presence. While Noble families held a thin layer, The most Ancient and Noble Families held a magical presence that could flood a room. Something eerily similar in description of what was happening to her. Yet she had never met any of these families. Oddly enough it was also the fact that the 'waves' that had been happening seemed to travel from an epicenter. That was also different than anything she had read. 

Also funny enough that the Boy-who-lived. Who coincidentally had sharp green eyes, and apparent jet black hair, was not from a Most Noble and Most Ancient house all because the Potter's name was far to close to a mundane last name. Although Hermione believed it to be ironic. Harry's father was a pureblood, and the fact that the Gaunts were a sacred twenty eight baffled her since they had basically died with a half blood named Tom Riddle. Odd.

what surprised her however was the sudden trail of familiar magic, more prominent than any wizard or witches' magic she had analyzed. All of a sudden appearing like a thought. Different from other magic as it felt more raw, uncontained yet refined.

No, this magic was familiar. she knew for a fact as she stood, excusing herself from her parents who were currently trying chocolate frogs-to which their disappointment, didn't move. Ignoring the look and verbal protests she moved quickly, letting her parents watch her move across the alley to the shop that was next in their list. The trail was fading slowly, yet too fast for her liking.

: illa vivit :

Harry let out a sigh of relief as he entered Ollivander's. Under the instructions of Hedwig, all he needed was his wand and he could go to Gringotts and get this god forsaken trip over with. His hair was messily covering his scar so no one knew who he was- but that didn't stop him for being treated like dirt and mud. Oddly enough all because of the 'mudblood clothes' he wore. Although, after decking the boy in the face he did feel bad. 

Lately he had been getting more violent. Was it because of his magic? His Arcana fueling it?

He let out a displeased grunt as he stubbed his foot on a stray box- was there a damn brick in that box? He was half a second away from nuking this place before a soft cough interrupted his train of thought. 

"Ah, about time you arrived."

"Mr. Ollivander."

"Heir of Merlin."

Harry froze. Merlin? As in old 'Magister Magi: Master Mage', Master of a thousand spells, Eldest Druid, Grand Seer, Master of Magic 'Myrddin'? Hedwig never told him that. On reflex for when he was to be put on guard. his body tensed as his mind closed. It wasn't occlumency he was using as much as it was just using his Arcana- something he shouldn't have been doing now, but was drilled into him. His mind being covered by a dense fog of magic as he pointedly gave the older Wizard a skeptical look.

"Do not fret Mr. Potter. My family holds many secrets. After all, the idea of wands came from the fact that Merlin himself used a staff. Of course not everyone was confident walking with such large armaments that he decided to make the first set of wands: Given to the original 28 Noble and Ancient houses, as well as a handful of other ancient wizards and witches."

Harry glanced to the door. surprised no one came through the door, not even his uncle. "Why tell me this?"

"Cause you oddly know so little of what you should. Did you know the rumor of wandmakers? The tree that the Elder wand was crafted from- while it was a stick from the tree. Merlin's staff was a branch." He mused, a wistful look 

It was then filled with an almost one sided conversation as Harry went through the procedure to claim his wand. The older wizard spouting more 'facts' of the age of merlin passed down through his family. Something he found interesting, yet cautious as Hedwig had told him to be. Yet Ollivander persisted with his information. About how the fae were beings of the Arcana, and their queen fell for a mortal. Gifting him the first 'True Arcana' which led to the birth of magic. That the wizard that grew to be the most powerful and respected mage of his time. Yet humans were not meant to possess this power, so he lost his humanity as he became a paragon. Giving away what was only meant for him.  
A betrayal of love. The Arch Fae betrayed by love and the one she had given everything for. All for an end no one truly knew.

Something about fate deciding to punish Merlin for this forbidden magic, that meant that Harry was in for a rough time. He didn't really like that. Frustrating building in him as the minutes turned into an hour. 

It wasn't until finally someone pushed through the door, face flushed as though opening the door released a heatwave, in which Harry realized that it might just be the reason. Magic was beginning to ooze out the store in such thick streams that Harry had to draw from his magic to pull it all back to him, containing it in the room as the girl hurriedly closed the door. Eyes wide in shock, realization, and something else. A fire in her eyes as she gazed at him. 

"YOU!" she nearly screamed. 

"Me?" he asked, surprised at her sudden declaration of a shout.

"What have you been doing to me?" She declared in faux anger. Harry raising an eyebrow as he could clearly hear the curiosity in the question. More or so she wasn't angry at whatever was going on, but on why it was going on. But what was going on?

Then it hit him. More or less as she stomped over to him, he could clearly see his magic-a thin mist-streaming into her. Suddenly face to face. The girls bushy hair seeming to grow slightly, straighten subtly, her wide eyes glowing slightly as her teeth shrunk slightly, face clear of everything mind some cute freckles. Ollivander's chuckle disappearing as suddenly it was just the two of them. Why was she reacting like this in his magic? Sudden nervousness filled him, as though he was suddenly training with Hedwig, The brown eyed girl gazing at him intensely. 

"What..." She said slowly, voice shaking. Harry's face flushed as he took in what was happening. She was trembling slightly, her soft hands on his shoulders, her grip firm. She was wearing muggle clothing like him, yet that did nothing to hide a surprising full body blush. He could feel the magic in the room flooding her, filling her mana. It was like they were connecting to each other. Suddenly He felt a tug, his magic surging into her as she made a very audible gasp and moan. Her face burying in his chest as her grip on his shoulders tightened. "What's going on...." She muttered weakly as his arms by reflex, wrapped around her. He could feel her mind fly through him like a slap to the face. Curiosity, embarrassment, want, need, and a flurry of other things. 

The only thing he could catch from her thoughts, her emotions, was her name, a beautiful name. So slowly he asked. "What do you mean.. Hermione?"

"Please... just a little longer.." Was her only reply, too which Harry understood. She didn't know why she approached him like this. He didn't know why he let a stranger get so close to him. It just felt right for them. He pulled her in slightly. Their magic tangling into each other, Harry noting that she smelt like cinnamon. He didn't hug much, but he'd be damned if every hug was like this. An eternity passing between them as Hermione- he liked that name-slowly calmed down, her trembling now replaced by calm breathing. He would've been content for the while they spent like this. Until he felt a brush against his magic, a hole in his magical shield as suddenly his mind was open to hers now.

"Thank you Harry."

A sudden flare sparked in Harry's chest. 

He pushed away, the room that was once empty of magic-pulled into Harry and Hermione respectively. Flushed with a flood of potent magic straight from his Arcana, a look of hurt on his face as he raised his hand, a wand from Ollivander's hand flying straight into his open palm: 11 inches, made of Holly with the core of a Phoenix feather. A white flash of sparks erupting from the wand. 

Ignoring Ollivander's voice of glee he snatched the wand kit and dashed for the door. Taking notice of Hermione's figure lean against a shelf as the flooded magic seemed to affect her suddenly with something he couldn't quite place. No, he didn't care for a moment, he had let his guard down, his mind open. A moment of weakness he remembered shouldn't have been there. His head hurt as the scar on his forehead seemed to pulse in pain. 

Upon opening the door he veered left as he nearly smashed into a girl- through the hood of her robes seeing blonde hair and crystal blue eyes meet his momentarily. All in an instant as he ducked down, pushing through the crowd to Gringotts, where a surprised Remus moved to quickly follow him. 

: illa vivit :

Daphne always prided herself on her own personal rules: clear and controlled. The eldest of a Most Noble and Ancient house had to be, or the world would eat you up. Cold and Calculating. Power was everything, yet to know what to do with that power was needed, one had to rely on yourself more than anyone else. Slytherin was where she would be- for she had grown up around snakes- ,cunning, ambitious, lying, thieving, all hoping to seduce wealth and power from her family through her. She would not have it.

So when she stopped abruptly in Diagon Alley, face faltering as she clearly felt a trail of familiar magic. After being exposed to it for an entire year, she nearly doubled over in surprise at the luck of the chance to find this mysterious source of magic. Composing herself she made to follow it, pausing at the door to Ollivander's. About to open the door when instead a boy-her age-rushed out, body brushing past hers as he made an attempt to leave relatively quickly. 

It was only a moment, but that moment nearly brought her to her knees when the boy made the slightest of contact with her: His shoulder brushing hers, and their eyes making the slightest of contact. My god those gorgeous eyes. She nearly collapsed as the familiar magic filled her to such an extent that she felt fulfilled. An emptiness she didn't know she had filled as her head whipped to the boy's leaving frame. However only able to glimpse a flash of green eyes meet hers as he disappeared. Her head clearing slightly, going crazy the next, then calming all in a matter of paused seconds.

"You felt that too didn't you?" a voice spoke softly, albeit weakly. Daphne took a moment to compose herself, letting the boy's sudden outburst draw attention away from herself as she let out a soft breath turning to the shop. Bushy brown hair and soft brown eyes with an odd lock on her face. She was leaning heavily on a shelf as Daphne's brow raised as she could feel the room's magic seeping out, this was unlike the magic she felt all those months at a time for one reason.

The magic was so raw, so inexplicably powerful and volatile that it felt like it was more. Her body flushed and tensed, instantly reacting to whatever this was- clearly adapting to it as she mentally fought the urge to start shaking uncontrollably like the girl in front of her. She let out a sigh to find that out of her and the random girl. She had the composure to not end up a wreck after that sudden experience.

The brunette only gave a small smile as she turned to Mr. Ollivander, who then started to congratulate her on something while going through the process of finding a wand.

Those two, she'd need to find more about, but that could wait. She eyed an older man, rugged and kind of sickly looking- though he had a perpetually sad look on his face constantly it seemed. a mustache accompanying his poor clothing style was following the boy she had just met. A simple deduction based on the fact that he was waiting outside of Ollivander's, and when the boy rushed out he looked like he had seen a ghost momentarily before shouting 'James', like he had seen a ghost walking away from him.

She'd be sure to look for a 'James' her year at Hogwarts. A small smile on her lips at the thought that the boy-who-lived could be the one she was looking for, after all he did posses the accurate traits, though his names was Harry-not James: A shame. Her thoughts interrupted as she stood behind the muggle-born in front of her. Who by know had her wand and held it tightly to her chest as though it was an idolized treasure. Right idea for a muggle-born. Their eyes meeting as she gave Daphne a weak smile. Most of her shaking gone and replaced by a shivering of excitement. Before walking out the door with a hurried look on her face, like she needed to write down something or she forget.

She needed to calm herself, control herself, she would not be caught acting like that in public. She needed to compose herself and figure out why this magic-if that was what you could even call it-made her react this way. She slowly moved forward, with as much grace she could muster. Magic moving through her, into her. She stepped to the older Wizard who only smiled. 

"Ah-Another linked through fate. Peculiar what he did to change it. Though I would say fate is fickle, and petty. The path ahead is dangerous. Now lets get you your wand shall we?"

What?

: illa vivit :

Harry let out a sigh. Eyes turning to him in confusion as he sat on the steps of Gringotts. He could hear the snickering from passing Wizards and Witches, assuming he was some muggleborn who had lost all their money to the Goblins. Remus catching up minutes later with a small, weak smile. "You alright... Harry?"

Harry managed a smile. "Of course uncle."

A chuckle followed. "So why the need for Gringotts- you wont be able to access the Potter vaults till your sixteenth." Remus asked while moving to take a seat next to Harry, albeit a bit distanced.

"My aunt's family has an account sending income to her- I'm going to be redirecting that to myself."

Remus frowned. "What for?"

"Travelling."

"Hmm. Well since you aren't an adult..."

"Remus?"

"Let me take the income-I'll take you anywhere you want to go. like.. Like a family."

Harry smiled, Remus returning it with a nervous look like his idea would get shot down at any moment. What happened to the older man? If Hedwig hadn't been there for him, and he grew up any more abused... Any more damaged would he be just like Remus? Remus had lost almost everything, while he had nothing to begin with. Yet all it took was a wrong move for him to lose what little he had. If he did lose everything, and Remus lost what little he had left. What would happen to the both of them in the end?

"Uncle.. Of course!" Harry stated suddenly, standing with an aloof smile. Remus looked like he did need some form of income- as much as he had learned he cared for his uncle he undoubtedly smelled. "Let's take care of that." There was no need to worry Remus of his other plan at Gringotts.

: illa vivit :

Remus gave cautious glances every moment, minute, and chance he could. Having armed Goblins escorting them filled you with that kind of sense of danger. What did Harry say to those cursed goblins to get them here?! He turned as Harry gave him a reassuring smile. A look James would always give him: 'Don't worry, I'll take care of it.'  
When they entered Gringotts, it was basic procedure: talk to Goldtooth, the Potter's banker at Gringotts, about transferring the monthly income sent to the Dursley's, all to one Remus Lupin. That was all that he thought was happening. Until Harry spoke the goblin language Gobbledegook. Something Remus would have found amusing if he had known Harry could speak it, which he didn't till now.

It was then, after only a handful of minutes passed as they were ushered down an unfamiliar hall, into an unfamiliar cart, down a mysterious stone hall leading to a... oh no.  
A ring littered with bones filled the chasm they entered. The chasm full of crystals and gems, ores and stone far older than anyone and anything within the cave. Dear Merlin. Remus raised his head apprehensively as he took in the amount of bodies among the stands. All goblins, marked with different colored banners in different sections screaming, shouting, cheering, booing. Remus took note of the 5 colors belonging to each 'clan'. Oddly enough, the 4 largest sported Hogwarts themed colors it seemed. Blue, Red, Yellow, Green. While the smallest of the 5, sported white, having a mix of not just goblins but also humans.

The other end of the ring housed 5 chairs, four of them occupied by what Remus guessed were 'Noble' Goblins, or clan leader. Harry nudging him while they slowly made their way down the stone steps to the expansive battle ring. "Four clan leaders, with an empty 5th for a wizard who has proven themselves. The last one to house that chair was Godric Gryffindor himself, funny enough this was a test Merlin set on him-all for a sword I think."

Ah, Remus nodded. He did remember the story of Godric Gryffindor commissioning the Goblin King to create his famed sword. Too which no one had seen since then. He didn't know Godric was a Goblin Chief though. He thought he knew some crazy things.

"From colors: Red is Chief Bloodmaw, Yellow is Chief Hearthstone, Green is Chief Shaman Greensorrow, and blue is oddly enough-Chief Flitwick."

"Wait. Professor Flitwick is royalty?"

"Unless there's another Flitwick clan among the goblins. Though it makes sense since refusing a Goblin noble is similar than refusing An Ancient and most Noble House. Even if the magical community wouldn't allow it, another war wasn't needed when a goblin bank in Polish was nearly destroyed by the second mundane world war."

Remus grumbled as they made their way through the stone and bone ring. The bones carved with figures portraying a story. The stone glowing with runes, humming softly as they walked passed. All the Goblins cheering as they saw the two of them enter with their 'envoy'.

Harry let out a grunt as he turned to Remus. "Last bit. Since I realize now you don't speak Goblin. Trust no one, not even the curse breakers, they're sworn to secrecy. Bloodmaw hates humans since Ragnuk made the sword for Gryffindor, he thinks goblins should be with goblins humans should stick to humans.. Hearthstone doesn't care but hates giants. Shaman Greensorrow only wants your blood- don't eat or drink anything she makes. Chief Flitwick trust only as far as you can throw him. Lastly- Whatever you hear Remus. Trust -"  
Remus' eyes went wide as they passed the gate, feeling the familiar lull of a portkey, finding himself in the stands with the White clad goblins and humans.

"Remus?"

He turned to see red hair, old robes, and a crazed look. A Weasley, but which one Remus never knew. Yet that didn't matter as he grabbed Remus by the shoulders, worry on his face.

"Why is that boy doing a 'Battle of Blood'?"

Battle of blood? That didn't sound good at all. Remus only nodded. The Weasley only doing a face palm as he turned to the center of the ring. nervously tapping his finger against the smooth stone. 

"Remus this is bad."

"What do you mean?"

"You're about to find out. I just hope they slaughter the boy.."

Dear Merlin Harry. What did you just get yourself into?

: illa vivit :

"Ladies and Goblin folk!!!" a Goblin roared, magic clearly in use. What magic, harry didn't care. He was mentally preparing. Goblin had their own magic after all.

"For the first time since the age of King Ragnuk the First! A Human seeks the honor and glory of 'Battle of Blood'. For a seat on the throne of White!"

A roar of approval. For years the seat remained empty, an unspoken challenge that few knew, and little tried. All Goblin folk were raised with this knowledge. Four clans, one king. However the Goblins could not fight for the title. It had to be bestowed by a mage. Thus the dislike and distrust towards the wizarding world grew. 

"For when Ragnuk passed, Gryffindor was long dead, no king to reign until the next mage took the mantle. Something that for hundreds of year had not happened. Sure there were those who came to challenge, yet they died, or fled. For to challenge were three requirements.

One: Wealth. Time is money and money runs the world. If one runs the world they hold the power to halt it, time was money, money was power.

Two: Magic. One needed large reserves of magic to cast the ceremonial spell. After all, to name a king was to have the entire Goblin Nation submit to that announcement-of course the easiest way was a declaration through magic. Powerful Magic from a wizard or witch powerful enough to beat their trial, and cast such a spell.

Three: Archaic History. Ancient blood had to flow through their blood- Let it be as a most Ancient and Noble House. Or with Ancient magic flowing from one's Arcana. Old magic- though most forgotten, lost to time, held power that could shake kingdoms, mold worlds. Old magic was truly powerful, so for it to remain in the age of the present was a gift."  
One these goblins approved of as the chance to crown a king created a movement among these magical creatures.

"Magical Societies all have 'Trials by Fire'. 'Tests of Virtues'. 'Rite's of Conquest', or even what the wizards call 'schools'-They should've kept the Goblet of Fire. But alas! We have a true challenge. For the first time in centuries! Battle of Blood for the crowning of Goblin King is today! A new age! May glory be bestowed to you who have earned it through blood: Fight Harry potter! Fight to prove yourself!"

the Goblins all roared as the magical runes hummed, clearly activating ancient magic as Remus could feel it. A barrier, a strong one at that, all in a dome with only a single figure inside. Oh no, He leaned forward as he saw the magic, could feel it grow. The ground shook, bones moving. The ground opening up as something seemed to be coming. The Weasley sputtering out a weak 'Potter?' that was drowned out by the crowd, the magic, and well. Everything.

"Harry look out!"

: illa vivit :

In a coffee shop sat two figures, a man and woman, the world passing on as no one seemed to take notice. They shared a glance as a girl approached them.  
"What a coincidence to have met you here." the man jeered. his dark eyes filled with a childish mirth as he drank from his coffee.

"No, this must be fate." The first woman countered, a click of her tongue as they both eyed the girl. Eleven she seemed, yet the air, her presence, seemed of someone older. Which was found to be true as she moved the chair- taking a seat, as the two figures watched amused as the girl aged

As the girl took her seat, the world seem to freeze. It did in fact slow, as the movements slackened, before completely stopping. The girl nabbing a bagel from the table beside them. The three beginning to eat in silence for a minute. Before the older woman inquired.

"So what is to happen to the boy?"

The girl scoffed. "Different than Merlin completely, yet still so the same."

"That tells us nothing Morgana."

"He is a genius, picking after Merlin, his fluency in magic is that of a demigod to their heritage. He's mature for his age, but still childish. He is eleven after all. However the similarities to Merlin stop: Merlin was calculative, slow paced, surefooted, calm. Harry is half of these. He's more impulsive, more... empathetic. He is however more violent than Merlin ever was. in Fae's name-" She sighed. "-He's unstable. The trauma of his childhood damaged him in a way Merlin never was."

Death choke out a laugh. Too which the other two glared. The woman hissed. "This is to regulate the balance of the world and you have the audacity to laugh?" 

"Calm down Fate." He said with a raised hand. "The Horcrux in him is the cause of that. A wizard feared me so much he resorted to dark-borderline Fel-magic. A fault in your case for messing with the world as it is. Riddle was not meant to gain this sort of strength."

"A necessary evil for the future."

"You condemned a poor soul, a loss love. To a fate worse than death." The man chuckled.

"Necessary." 

"I feel bad for the life of Harry Potter then. What could be worse than that."

A fist slamming into the table to interrupt the two's bickering. Morgana sighing. "This talk is not meant for this scenery. You two can argue in purgatory, or the forbidden realm. Not in the mortal realm." The two shared a look before death shrugged, and Fate rolled her eyes. "I'll watch over the boy until the time is to come."

"And repeat what happened with Merlin?" quipped Death.

"THIS! Is. Not. About. Merlin."

"Never would have guessed." Fate added.

As morgana snapped, the world seemed to continue. "The cards are drawn, board is set. Everyone has their part to play. Now we wait."

Death chuckled. "If that's the case. I believe the boy is undergoing his first trial. I hope it'll be as bloody as Gryffindor's. They renamed it Battle of Blood instead of keeping the original 'Rite of the Ancients'."  
The other two nodded as a flash erupted. No one remembering, no one noticing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Excerpt of Myrddin's Writings- Effects of the Arcana/ Magical trial]
> 
> {First Excerpt: EoA}  
> "As time passes, I feel less human. I age not as I used to. No longer feel the same I had felt years ago. The more magic I cast, The more power drawn. The less human I feel I become. My emotions no longer truly mine. For now I lose my mind to madness and power. Yes indeed, I am no longer human. For magic was a gift to man, the Arcana is a curse."
> 
> {Second Excerpt: Magical Trials}  
> "Magical trials are tests of magical creatures set within their worlds for those who wish to join them: As a rite of passage or trial to adulthood."
> 
> "Werewolves 'Trial by Fire' originates under a test to join the pack, the clan as one. Thus testing one's instinct, will, tenacity, and loyalty."
> 
> "Goblins 'Rite of the Ancients' was a battle of wills, control, and strength, and above all: Ruthlessness. However with the crowning of Godric Gryffindor, had turned into such a bloodbath that a Goblin Chief was slain- The Bloodmaw's being born that day with the color of red to honor Gryffindor's ruthlessness. To the extent was this battle deemed legendary, out of fear. The crowned King of Goblins forged Gryffindor a sword, and renamed their trial 'Battle of Blood'"


	6. More than everything seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is prepared for Hogwarts, yet a realization of changes dawns new information to Fate's already twisted plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed chapter- I had realized some big flaws to this story, plot holes that would be caught and be very bad had they not been dealt with. Now that everything is in relative place for this story, I think were all set.
> 
> See the end of the chapter for more notes of course and enjoy! - Kerone

The trace placed on every wand made casting spells tricky. Harry knew that if he were to cast it they'd find out he was more capable than they realized, which he couldn't have since as of the moment. The element of surprise was everything. 

Yet he knew something regarding the trace that he had planned to use abuse. 

It traced spells that the general populous knew, spells cast on the regular basis of being: modern magic. Thus it wouldn't register him casting Archaic magic. Ancient magic only few alive knew.

Wand warping into his hand: he felt the blood rushing through his veins as he smiled wickedly, wandless magic was only so strong after all. He was looking forward to casting the Archaic spells Hedwig had taught him now that he had a wand that would catalyze the full possible potential of the spell now. His volatile Arcana wouldn't matter now that he had a wand to act as a safeguard instead.

As he opened his eyes, green magic flowing from them like an ever burning flame. He took in the change of the ring. The bones amassed with stone to create hollowed skeletal like golems. the metal veins seen on the crust seemed to be moving, flowing like blood. Liquid silver and gold were the veins of these living rock and bones. Their bones protected by flesh made of stone, eyes glowing gems. A siege, a small army of whatever these pseudo-golem-skeletons. Some Goblin, some human. regardless all not truly alive, fueled instead by ancient magic.

Harry smirked as horns sounded, cheers echoed, and the bone golems lurched forward. Intent to kill set on their reflective eyes as they drew rusted weapons-all worn by time yet somehow still intact, goblin magic filling the circle as the ground rumbled under the being's heavy footsteps. Harry took a deep breath as his smile grew, it was time to put on a show.

: illa vivit :

Remus and the Weasley who's name he had finally learned- William, both gawked at the sight before them. In fact, all the present human curse breakers might as well have been with the fact that the 'Boy-who-lived' was currently here: challenging the first task of 'Battle of Blood'. More surprising was the fact that the boy was currently en route to completing said battle with the grace and showmanship of a performer.

Harry had drawn his wand-and though Remus believed that Harry knew no magic since he was raised by muggles. He had thought Harry would try casting some first year spells thinking they would work! Yet when he opened his eyes, a demon like look in them as they burned, smoldering with an intensity that had magic burning off of them. He had raised the wand upward shouting something that was no spell Remus knew.

"Earnian Min Miht!"

Lights of gold and crimson filled the sky, swirling, entwining like two snakes before becoming a single beam, moving like a river all to a single point: Harry's wand. The stream brushed the tip of the wand, coiling around the wand as Harry turned. The stream lashing like lightning as it struck the first wave of golems in front of him. Shattering stone and bone, molten metal spurting like blood from the wounds inflicted to those that survived. Those unlucky were nothing but chunks of what had been there, and what had remained now.

Like a maestro, Harry waved his wand in quick and slow intervals, occasionally looping his wand. The stream following with every flick, wave, and swing, only leaving echoes of what had happened in the moment before red and gold struck them down. Harry turning sharply as he spun low, turning his wand downward as the beam struck like lightning, a resounding boom echoing without the ring. 

Remus took note of what he was doing, he was destroying the bones that the stone protected. He knew why as he realized: For every golem harry slew, two would form, even more. All based on the bones that remained afterward. Harry used that blast to obliterate whatever remains had existed. 

'Go Harry!" He roared, caught in the wave of cheers that quickly followed. The golems that remained-Remus counted 47. Were all slowly regrouping. The monster's once 100 strong had been reduced to more than half in a matter of minutes. An impressive feat for any fight, any warrior, let alone any child.

" Gehetan Willian to Hieldan" Harry spoke, the words silencing the entire ring as the glow of the wand drew all eyes. A blood curling hiss erupting from wand point as an onyx chain launched and daunting speeds- striking the first Golem with an impact that had its metal blood erupt in a fountain spray, miniature chains sprouting from its back as it latched onto more and more golems. Soon, half of the golems found themselves impaled.

"Bledan." the young boy commanded, pulling his outstretched wand back over his shoulder- as though mimicking a yank of the chains binding his prey. The pitch black chains seemed to grow as a new color flourished from its center- a red similar to blood erupting in color as the chains shattered. The golems that were once chained erupting as the ground was painted in flowers of molten blood metal. The golems crumbling into dust as though they were drained of any source of life, magic, or liquid within. Only dust remaining as green eyes turned to the remaining set of 'challenges' living. 

The wand loudly hummed as suddenly a four foot purple blade erupted from the end of the wand, the wood becoming a hand as Harry gripped it with both hands. The purple blade itself having intricate runes woven into the magical blade.

The Goblins, roaring with approval. Cheering at the show of strength, the drawing of metallic 'blood'. The humans working and those still looking, fear filling their faces, mixtures of awe and shock, unable to speak-nor would they be able too due to their contract. It wouldn't matter, as everything was drowned out by Remus' thoughts as he looked at his friends son.

Who really was this? His eyes seeing a nephew, a boy, a son. His mind seeing a monster, a hero? No, this was something more. The animal in him shook, rattled to his core. This was the feeling of prey seeing predator. Of a demon, a devil among men. He could only gulp, what could he even do?  
Why Remus would roar in approval, Yell in fear and respect, to someone who would create a maelstrom in the wizarding world. Albus be damned, prophecy or not, he would stand with his nephew. A monster among men. 

: illa vivit :

William 'Bill' Weasley sat down with some form of shock, confusion, of something.

Harry bloody Potter was not human. No he was something else entirely. The way he moved showcased battle prowess, but who had taught that to him? Who had trained the young boy-who-lived into such a battle hardened monster. He was worried, 'I just hope they slaughter him' was not what he meant. It was a goblin saying of luck: Blood and glory. Through injury one has lived. He hoped since Harry knew of magical rites within magical communities he knew that. Remus clearly didn't. 

He had heard spells he never heard in his entire life: Which was something since he knew old spells, even if he couldn't cast them. The first spell: 'Yearn Mine Might', wasn't even a cast-what did that mean? Why was actually speaking counting as casting a spell? The second spell was even more confusing-it wasn't English, but it wasn't any word he recognized. He tried the words in his mouth while the crowd began to quite and move to rushed conversations. 

"Jah-Jeh..Jeh-heh-tan... Willin.. Will-e-ain.. Toh.. Hell...Hail... dahn" what the honest bloody hell was Harry spouting?

What fucking gibberish was that?! At least his third 'Bleh-dahn' was more comprehensible, especially as a legitimate spell. No this made no sense at all. What had this child even learned? That magical blade, those runes were old, older than Gringotts for sure. In fact, he swore he saw one of them before.

His mind was racing of what he had just saw, the slaughter the child did without hesitation. Even more terrifying was the showmanship: from his lax movements to sudden instinctual reactions. As though instead of being raised with family he was raised with battle. Even more terrifying was the green tint his scars glowed when he was using magic. Harry never seemed to notice, unless he didn't care. No, that glow he had seen somewhere. An old, old tomb. 

He shook his head as he let out an awkward cough, quickly shooting to his feet and joining everyone: Goblin, Human, Elven, to Werewolf alike, to the new Chief Jobberwok of the Goblins. A voice erupting from the cheers as an older goblin coughed to garner attention that took too long to quiet.

"To Chief Jobberwok Potter! Who has proven himself where hundreds have failed, we pronounce you the highest honor of goblin kin! The choosing of Goblin King!"

As Harry Potter sat on his throne among the other Goblin Chieftans. A head piece of bone crowned upon his head: Ram horns curling. Bill remembered what he saw. Harry was using ancient magic- but the ancient magic he used was even darker than it was old. He needed to tell someone, anyone, before it was too late. Before the boy- the monster in front of him became worse- lost in a curse more dangerous than anything he had ever seen or read. He had to tell Dumbledore.

But he couldn't.

: illa vivit :

Harry left Gringotts with a glint in his eyes and an interesting heirloom in hand. Remus quickly following-confused probably due to the processing of becoming Chief Jobberwock, and the fact that Professor Flitwick was now a 'Goblin Prince'. Something Remus never thought he'd see to live. Harry had to suppress his smile as his eyes caught a glint of gold in the store window. Maybe he could indulge and buy something nice for himself and Hedwig.

The heirloom would indeed come in handy. The 'Jabberwok's Fang' was a goblin artefact of gold and bone. What bone? Harry didn't care- all he knew was that anything he wrote with that pen about his money was now official 'Gringott's Approved'. Especially since the other end had the Sigil engraved at the end: A key to the First Vault of Gringotts.

After making his purchase of: One gold cauldron (Cause pewter was far too simple if Harry was going to be taking potions seriously), assorted robes sporting the crest of Potter, a broom (Who didn't like flying?), and various other odds and ends including a shrinking trunk. Harry had Remus take him back to Privet Drive in order to 'prepare and pack'. Something Remus only nodded before bidding the boy a farewell.

Harry enjoying Hedwig's company as they both prepared for Hedwig's 'Grand Plan'.

: illa vivit :

Daphne eyes narrowed when she returned to Greengrass Manor, ensuring no one was watching as she entered another room and closing the door silently. Looking around the 'normal' bedroom she approached a dresser, opening the door and stepping in and closing it behind her. Alone in the dresser- which was empty- she muttered a single word at the wood in front of her.

"Narnia."

Muttering the secret code created by herself, the dresser shook momentarily before opening itself to a small but still spacious room. A single chair and bookcase decorating the room in modest fashion. Daphne scanned the room with calculating eyes as after a moment, she let out a relieved sigh. The neutral expression of her facing melting as she moved within the room. A breath of relief that everything was still untouched she grabbed a journal from the case, moving to the chair as she closed her eyes.  
She had found this room while exploring, oddly enough the directions were found in the Greengrass family library. Where she spotted a single Muggle book: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Where presumably her mother had found the room- and discovered that its ancient wards kept it hidden from the world save a single Dresser- with a single word code that could be changed through blood. 

Ironically all the 'important' items had been moved out then and replaced with something even more dangerous: Mundane objects. Not just any mundane objects: But a collection of books and things called 'vinyls' that played music. Something Daphne found amusing. In the half year of discovery she had quickly turned this area into her personal chambers with the exception of her bedroom-which was far from safe considering the nosy younger sibling she had. Daphne smirked as she had found a place not even young Tori could find. 

"James." She muttered distractedly, turning her hand as she used her magic to pull a quill into her waiting palm. Quickly remembering why she had come down here: to write down notes and thoughts that she deemed important enough to write down as soon as possible.

Funny she nearly giggled, ever since she had these.. Feelings, these influx of magic. She had driven herself crazy searching for the source. She had found that something causing it-someone to be exact. When she wasn't even trying to find it! She couldn't help but let an uncharacteristic smile escape her face as she finally met the supposed 'dream boy'.  
And he was everything she expected him to be, albeit no horns or wings. But for whatever god that existed when they created that boy: Those eyes she always found herself lost in them. Those eyes that was her drive to find him, the ability to force magic and control it momentarily-a lesser pull and push more like. All stemming for the drive of finding the source of these influx of magic. She should have been focusing on capitalizing on said increase of potential.

Yet she was acting like some childish girl unbecoming of the Heir of Greengrass. Cold and calculated she reminded herself: Control herself. She was in control, not some desires for some boy. She had other plans, other goals to achieve. Repeating these thoughts for the past year did little but the thought was what counted. 

She opened her eyes to find the journal-notes of an older Greengrass on some spell involving a magic circle-had a new sketch work added onto its pages. Black ink scribbled haphazardly on the page in the shape of a pair of eyes. 

she shut the book with a tired sigh. She decided she'd just sleep it off, investigate tomorrow. She'd find the James boy on the express.

: illa vivit :

Nymphadora Tonks let out an over exaggerated sigh. Her final year at Hogwarts, Prefect to Hufflepuff, yet still utterly boring. She had enjoyed some things within her time at the school. Yet nothing was more prominent that what she had been feeling the past year. As frustrating as it was she had expected something to happen- yet nothing did. So caught up in preparations she had decided to focus on something, anything other than the feelings that bothered her. Even stopping her cupboard snogs with some of her 'friends'. Cause in the end it didn't feel right.

She glanced at the letter she held as she lay on the floor, her dad's muggle radio playing one of her favorite songs: 'Heaven' by some Canadian named Adams. Relaxing it was- she was excited.

Excited because after Hogwarts she'd be personally tutored by one Alastor Moody, one of the best Aurors of his time. 

She couldn't wait for the year to go by uneventfully again, get it over again. After all, the man of her dreams was far from being a student from what she could tell in her dreams. a soft lull overcoming her as she relaxed, eyes closing as she listened to the music and felt different. A good different.

: illa vivit :

Sirius Black opened his eyes. As he sit himself up from the small bed. The single room he stayed in was far different than Potter Manor, 12 Grimmauld Place, or anywhere else he had ever lived. Yet this was home, had been home for the past 11 years. He let out a sigh as he remembered, lately he had been able to do a lot with himself. Especially his magic as it had grown stronger over the year. Something that helped with his new lifestyle, as unhealthy as it was a wizard or witch could sustain themselves by feeding their body magic-of course it had its drawbacks.

By having your body feed on magic to sustain a life with less food and water needed. One tended to slowly lose themselves. However Serious the problem was-Sirius had only needed to use the technique on only a handful of occasions. The first time being after Peter had injured him during the chase. 

He should've been in Azkaban, could've been rotting there while Peter roamed free. Yet Dumbledore had intervened: and now he had been in hiding for the past 11 years. Something he didn't mind- he was free.

However, something was wrong. As though Sirius had suddenly remembered something he forgot. What bothered him wasn't the memory itself, but how he had remembered it. As though a window had been opened and a gust of wind had smacked him in the face. Or he had been obliviated, or the memory had been blocked, but how? It was during the Marauder Era. Where everything was still ok. Where though tense and tough, the Black's were still family- or his cousins at least were still close. The only problem was Snape's greasy arse and James trying to win the heart of Lily Evans. Happy memories.

Yet this new memory seemed to place itself in that moment. He swore he knew all the professors of Hogwarts- after all it was hard not to after the years. Yet one named escaped him, the one he was remembering, albeit it was fuzzy. He couldn't place it. 

What was going on here?

: illa vivit :

Bellatrix let out a frustrated yell. Sitting cross legged in the center of her cell, she straightened her back as she closed her eyes once more. Trying to trace the now familiar feeling of him. To remember where she felt it. Almost a year ago she had brushed it off, a feeling of glee as visions of a man-not to be known as a guy: This was a man-that would be the one to free her. Not just from this rotting prison but free her mind. 

She had remembered a time before she went 'crazy'. A time when her head was on straight, and everything was so clear to her. Then suddenly there was a haze, a feeling that something had gone missing, and that something had truly driven her crazy. It was maddening. Straining her Occlumency and searching through her thoughts she had followed the familiar trail of magic- awoken with the ever growing presence of whoever this mysterious benefactor was.

Once again she had found the source of what had sealed these memories. The thing that drew her insane within herself: A gate. No, this was more or less just a single picture frame. It was of her wedding day, though instead of the foggy memory of a one sided, political marriage that she remembered. The moving picture told a different story, one that she could never seem to remember no matter how hard she tried. As though it was a fleeting memory she was hopelessly trying to chase.

The portrait was simple enough. Of a young version of herself- probably seventeen, sixteen even. Had she married before Lestrange? No, she had no recollection. She was smiling, eyes clear, yet sharp as the smirk on the younger version of herself seemed to know something she didn't. Which was at this point true. The only hint she had was that the 'groom' was older, how much? She couldn't ell exactly, his face was an odd blur, the only thing she knew was that mess of black hair that had somehow been tamed for the day, something she herself now had remembered.

These memories, these locked and forgotten till recently had hurt her head. Yet she had never thought so clearly. When she was under Voldemort as his right hand, she had always been distracted, always off. Yet with these memories now awakening. She felt refreshed, as though she had awoken from a long nights rest. Albeit this rest was years. Why was it now she was remembering things she knew she could never forget? Her answers weren't inside the cell. She had to get out of here and find the answers. She needed to know.

: illa vivit :

Narcissa glanced out the window from the Malfoy Manor, distraction filling her as she pondered these influx of memories. Her Occlumency was always the best of her skills, so searching through these thoughts had been a relative ease. Yet she could only catch glimpses, that was what bothered her. It was though she was watching the first five seconds of these new memories before they switched. These changes had lead to some interesting memories. 

More so to find that her memories had indeed been tampered with. While she did remember many things and forget little. It was the fact that she had no recollection of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor during her sixth year. A temporary figure, but one surely worth noting, seeing as the Dark Lord would not nearly be as strong without his teachings.

So it was to her conclusion that these next coming years would prove to be something interesting. Something interesting indeed.

: illa vivit :

Fate frowned, she knew she had changed many things in order to right Myrddin's wrongs. From Riddle's awakening, to the escape of Sirius Black to ensure a different outcome of future events, whispering into the ear of many people. Yet she did not remember this change, such a large change that could not have been because of Myrddin. No, someone else, something else had been tampering with fate, playing against her. She let out a growl as she narrowed it down to a single individual, the only individual who would dare do this.

"What did you do death?"

Death had now taken the form of a woman, pale porcelain skin, eyes as black as night, with one side of her head shaved bear, top long on one side. A smirk placed on her lips as she lounged in the air. A cup in one hand and a familiar book in her other hand: The Deathly Hallows. Fate raised a brow.

"Oddly enough, I'm surprised someone as controlling as you would let it slip past you." A sneer.

Fate hissed angrily. "I simply ensure that things go as they were meant to be. Myrddin changed things, so I made appropriate changes to ensure that things would fix themselves to what they should have become. How it gets there is not my problem-" Death snort, "-However what you did... Your actions are a direct violation of the ancient laws!"  
"And yours aren't?"

"What did you do."

"Ensure the ending you seek will occur."

They both stared silently into each others eyes. Emotions mixed as after what felt like an eternity, Death spoke.  
"You know how... Vindictive Morgana can become. Her bastard child and Myrddin's human lover. Myrddin may have been a magical being in the end, but Morgana could still not control the man. Morgana's anger to the mortal woman who Myrddin loved caused her to punish her family's line. Her family's name? Peverell." Death again let a uncharacteristic giggle escape her lips. "Morgana did some interesting things in her life. But this is truly... Interesting."

"How so?" Fate inquired after she realized Death was waiting for her to ask.

"The Fae's Arcana is magic at its purest form. So why is the Potter child's Arcana so volatile?"

A scoff, "He's human." 

"Yet Myrddin became the first immortal, albeit as a false one."

Fate let out a frustrated whine. "Then what are you getting at!?"

"The Peverell family has a history with fate and death: All connecting to the Arcana. Fate I expect you to catch on. What would a family with the most pure form of magic asleep and un-awoken within them, be punished with? What is the most corrupt form of the Arcana? Fae magic?

Fate turned wide eyed. "Morgana would never. The Queen of the Fae would never turn to Fel magic!"

"For love is often blind, lost with heartache is when one hits their lowest."

They stared at one another, silent as they turned to the world they viewed. A sigh escaped Fate as Death could only grin. "In the end Fate leads everything to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Excerpt of Myrddin's Writings- Chief Jobberwok/Chief Jobberwok's Fang]
> 
> Spells:  
> Earnian Min Miht - The spell of Victory: One must know loss and victory to cast. To the understanding of this spell, to properly cast it one must be certain of one's victory. The more true one's victory is the stronger it is to cast. However it can only be cast once within moments of combat.  
> Gehetan Willan to Hieldan - Commandment of one's will to bend: Hurl's a binding chain towards the target-similar to the imperius it is known to force one's will to bend, unlike the imperius one is completely conscious of this curse. It fills one's body with pain to hinder the mind and force the will to bend. resulting in a painful, yet powerful spell of battle.  
> Bledan - Bleed: Various uses, most commonly as a blast that upon contact will force the opponent to bleed through any means- mostly open wounds, coughing blood, or bleeding from the eyes. A base cast for the more popular 'Bledan Biernan' or 'blood burn'
> 
> {First Excerpt: Chief Jobberwok}  
> While Goblins hold title of 'Chieftain' or 'Clan leader', etc. Jobberwok is a position to any non goblin person of power. Chief Jobberwok is seen as the leader and thus deemed to have a seat at the Council. However in order to become Chief a Battle of Blood is required to prove oneself. In doing so they obtain the 'citizenship' as a goblin royal, and can then crown the next Goblin King as accordance to the Original 'Treaty of Magical Societies in following of Myrddin'.
> 
> {Second Excerpt: Chief Jobberwok's Fang}  
> In simplest terms, Bone encrusted with runes, hidden under a thin layer of gold and brass. This 'Fanged Pen' is one of the only three ways to use Gringotts without Gringotts. Upon signing the name of Chief Jobberwok onto any parchment, can a deal be made seen as Gringotts approved. Of course it can only be used on whoever has undergone the ceremony of Chief Jobberwok.
> 
> \---------  
> On another side note, sorry for the delay. Didn't expect this to happen. However most of the problems are fixed with this chapter. Opening up more of the 'changes' made by fate. Seeing how Fate is fickle this is the final chapter of the 'set up'. Now I am able to continue with the real story.  
> Any questions? Leave a comment.  
> uh. honestly no beta so if there are any problems- comment!  
> What other changes do you think Fate has made, What did she do with tom?
> 
> I want this story to have you guys formulating questions, theories, everything! but most of all, i want you to enjoy!
> 
> See you next time. -Kerone


	7. The Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sorting hat knows many things, yet can only anticipate what this year brings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I apologize for the mad delay- with work dropping a crap ton of newbies under me I got caught up in it that I didn't update! regardless hopefully I can pump out the next chapter or two early as an apology- I had to rewrite a shit ton of this due to some more plot holes that open as I seem to write- Hmm.
> 
> Anyway Enjoy -Kerone

Harry-sporting robes instead of his questionable muggle apparel-casually moved through the crowded platform. His belongings all shrunk and in his pockets, he would've prefered to have just travel to hogwarts himself, saving the trip and train all together. 

Hedwig however, refused. claiming that he needed to 'interact' and meet new people. So here he was, with Hedwig on his arm he had found himself moving through the crowd with relative ease. Until he realized that his plan to keep his head low and not drawn attention: Had drawn attention.

After all, in his moment of exiting Gringotts one of the richest people alive. He hadn't been exactly discreet with his purchases. Then again, he liked to think being eleven was an excuse. Though that was hardly an excuse it itself: The thought count.

For an eleven year old, he was tall, but by no means was he a giant of his age. 5 foot, 1 inch however was impressive for an eleven year old. Throw in the fact that the robes he wore, black but lined and traced with gold: made him look like a noble-already drew attention(For the Purebloods who had never seen him and the muggles just as curious). Three golden rings were worn, the Potter family ring on his right, and two gold bands with runes engraved on them on his left index: His parents wedding rings, obtained in the Potter family vault. A unique aspect for familial rings-they returned to the family's vault. A memory of a family he never knew.

Other than the obvious present gold that he wore, Hedwig wore a thick gold necklace on her owl self, with two around the ankles of her talons. Gifts he had indulged her with now that he had legitimate money to burn. Not so smart. Yet he didn't really know why he had garnered so much attention, for all they know he could have just been some random rich pureblood.

Until he remembered what kind of robes he purchased.

Now, as a child who grew up with very little, where as most of his belongings had been second rate hand me downs. Even after travelling their funds had been more so to just 'live'. Of course after realizing the money that was now his he had indeed bought a handful of things. Handful as in multiple shrinking trunks handful. 

One of these purchases was the set of Robes he wore, all with an ever present crest on them. Usually simply just above the heart would be where the crests would be. But the one he wore, the 'simple' Black and gold robe: Had two potter crests in different locations than what would be considered 'normal' if normal involved proudly showing off one's family name. One on his left sleeve, right on the side of his shoulder. The second, centered rather largely on the back, from the small of his back down the robes to mid thigh.  
Why was this a design feature and why did he buy this?

All because the vendor had convinced him that these robes were meant to be worn by someone as amazing, and important as himself. One that demanded respect, one that showed power. This act only reminded Harry of one thing: No matter how mature he believed himself to be, he was still eleven. He was impulsive at times-no he was just impulsive. He blamed the fact that he grew up poor-so suddenly having cash to burn was indeed a new experience.

After making it halfway through the platform, eyes on him, he abandoned the premise of keeping a low profile. His head low only would show weakness to the wolves that were purebloods and disappointment to those who had heard of him only through name. He would file the weak and the strong when they came to him, and would they come to him.  
Putting the hood down, and putting his hair in a loose tie. He let eyes travel to his now present eyes and the trademark scar on his head as he began his stride to the train, Hedwig only shaking her head as he let out a small smirk. First impressions were always the most prominent, so why not give them a show as the 'hero' they believed him to be when the time came. His plans would come a lot easier after all

 

: illa vivit :

 

Ginny let out a rough yawn as she glanced at her mother. For the past fifteen minutes she had been watching the mundane side in hopes of catching sight of the muggle raised boy-who-lived. With an annoyed 'hmph' she had gotten the attention of Ron, who only shrugged lazily while for once she saw him read! Though the cover claimed it was a quidditch almanac of last year. It was only after another fifteen minutes that their mother had abandoned hope and sent Ron on his way to the train after a sort of realization that Harry Potter was not here, nor was he coming, and that he had most likely made it onto the platform and on the train already. Ginny sighed, as instead she turned her eyes, a soft pulling sensation drawing her vision to somewhere on the other side of the magical wall. She couldnt quite see of course, but she could feel it.  
What was she feeling?

 

: illa vivit :

 

Hermione was doing her diligent job of brushing up on anything and everything involving her upcoming classes. A habit that had formed in way of preparation. She had found a book regarding wizarding etiquette and was surprised at how expansive it was. So for the better part of the boarding she had found herself invested in the book.  
So when she glanced up to find a familiar blonde with piercing blue eyes, well she was indeed surprised as the girl closed the door. Eyes watching her in the way a hawk would eye its prey: analytic and calculating, preparing to dive.

"Daphne Greengrass." was all she said as she cast two spells that Hermione caught notice of immediately. A Notice-Me-Not and Silencing charm. Two spells that took quite some time to learn-especially since it was taught in the later years(She really was jealous of pureblood resources). Adding the crest on her robes Hermione nervously tensed: Pureblood.  
"How can.. How can I help the Heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass." She squeaked. Thoughts of the muggleborn discrimination filling her head.

A smirk from the Daphne's face only made Hermione more confused. "Ollivander said your name was Granger. So Miss Granger I only want one thing."

"And that would be?"

"Tell me what happened in Ollivander's shop that day."

A pause, Hermione's mind filling with sudden thoughts that maybe she could figure out what had happened, especially now that she knew she wasn't alone for sure.

 

: illa vivit :

 

"Is this booth taken?"

Ron turned his head to the voice- visibly surprised to see intimidating eyes and a lightning bolt scar. A smirk on the dark haired boy as he adjusted his glasses. Robes finer than anything Ron could ever hope to have in his time at Hogwarts, it wasn't his finest moment when the first thing that came out of his mouth was:

"You're Harry bloody Potter!"

Harry frowned at that, before he shook his head with a smile. "Harry James Potter, though bloody would by an interesting middle name- is this seat taken?" He said hurriedly, glancing behind him. All too which Ron beckoned to the seat across from him.

Well shite. for the better part of the boarding Ron had found himself having a normal conversation with Harry Potter, something his mother no doubt would be congratulating him on. From Quidditch-to which Harry had more interest that the fact the snitch was made of gold. To wizard chess and what it was like being a pureblood. He had considered it odd how well everything was going. Especially when they were joined by Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones. More or less, Harry seemed fine with the driving point of the conversation returning to how it was like being raised on the mundane side of the world. Something Harry seemed fine to talk about to an extent.

Everything was actually going well as Ron had found himself casually controlling the conversation somewhat, a proud feeling filling him as he glanced at Harry smirking again. What was so funny? Before he could ask- Susan dropped a legitimate bomb in the conversation. Although it was meant in good meaning it was still a bomb.

"So people say you remember the night everything happened? What happened after your parents were killed?"

Yep. Even by the Weasley chart of conversation killing. This was worse than a Ron out of ten. The room going deathly silent as Neville excused himself to the bathroom hurriedly. His mind racing as he noticed Harry's grin disappear as a small frown was placed on his face. His eyes however showing his emotion as he swore they began to burn: They were burning into Susan's as her face began to flush, body beginning to shift slightly.

Thankfully however being redirected towards a new figure.

"So it's true then. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." A young blonde, a cheeky smirk on his face as he indicated to two imposing-or however imposing two big eleven year old boys could be-figures. "Meet Crab and Goyle, of Most Noble houses Crab and Goyle-similar to yours Potter. I'm Draco Malfoy, Of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy."  
Ron knew this figure upon the cheesy introduction, fucking Malfoy. Snickering In response as Harry raised a brow. Draco glaring at Ron's reaction before giving him a once over.  
"Think my names funny do you? Hand me down robes and a mop of red hair to sweep the feet I walk on. Must be a Weasley." Ron reacting by getting up faster than a broom being yelled 'up' could. Harry moving in between the two as a sudden pressure filled the room, nearly causing Ron to collapse in surprise. Malfoy's greasy face paling slightly as he didn't seem to flinch from the sudden rise of action. Eyes still clashing Malfoy's next words were directed to Harry.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better off than others, Potter. Don't go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

The word's weren't so threatening when Crab and Goyle had bolted down the hall. Draco only curtly nodding before calmly leaving.

Susan only able to mutter an awed 'Wow.' Ron glanced to see Harry's imposing stature, eyes now glowing slightly. 

"I'll go excuse myself. I need to use the.. uh. Loo-the bathroom." he grumbled

That was Ron and Susan Bone's first experience with Harry Potter.

 

: illa vivit :

 

Tonks let out a lazy yawn as she slid open a booth. catching a pair of 6th years deciding to get handsy with each other. a scoff as she barked at them to find another room. Rookies.  
As much as she enjoyed the privileges, and the power. The work was just stressful, then again. She thought of this as Auror training before Auror training. Since the job itself was boring and trivial at times, prefect was kind of similar to that. Her power coming from past knowledge and hands on experience of snogging locations all throughout Hogwarts and the train had found her surprisingly good in terms of busting students. Their reactions ranging from embarrassing to laughable- and not in the good way.

However, what caught her attention was the influx of magic as she paused outside a booth that she almost didn't notice. Almost- the clever pieces of shits. only sixth years learned the spell of notice me nots, but the flaw was that it only worked for people who weren't looking for those who cast it- for then it would be weakened. As her job of prefect she knew she had to be looking for these types of students- hell, she was one of those students. Sadly, these 'clever' pieces of shite would be caught. Just cause you learned the spell early didn't mean anything when magic was practically flooding outside the desired 'hiding spot'.

However it was what she heard that made her pause.

"No I will not seduce every witch in Hogwarts."

"With the amount of magic flowing through your body, you won't be able to expend it by casting it as often as you normally would. So the next best option is releasing your magic through other means. Hogwarts is flush with raw magic-your body will be taking in too much magic."

"I just can't physically work it out? I've imbued my body with magic before."

"That only damages it further if you do so for extended periods of time. No- physically working out would require-"

"-No!-" A hissed yell. "-You forget I'm still a virgin. Even we haven't-"

"But I've taught you all you know."

Silence.

"I'll figure out another way." A grumbled response.

"Wrong answer. If you're not confident let me... Reassess you." Tonks could practically hear the smirk from the other side of the door.

Tonks froze as moments later the sounds of an intense snogging was faintly heard: The soft moans, sounds of rustling robes. Shaking herself out of her stupor and the crazy image of someone seducing every witch in Hogwarts all because of what? an Excessive amount of magic that was harmful to his body? Or was the magic acting like a male performance enhancer that never stopped? She shook her head again as she realized she had frozen in thought again, face flushing slightly at the realization that he was 'trained' and 'taught' by some girl as well.

Fuck.

She quickly acted in hopes of stopping the two, as well as stop her thoughts in the one action of acting without thinking. Only to find the door open as she grabbed the handle and was met with oh so familiar green eyes that she had learned to know over the past year in her dreams. Albeit he was short, then again he was younger than her. However, with the fact that his hair had ruffled in a rough manner: a mixed look of lust and anger-that someone would dare interrupt him in his actions caused her to freeze again.

"What do you want?" He let out a low, frustrated growl that came out way to huskily to her liking.

This kid was still a virgin? With looks like his? Acting like this?

She only nodded as she thanked whatever god existed that before this she was different from what she would 'normally' be seen as. With the shocking turn of events she had taken the appearance of someone young. a reflex when she was surprised: to look as innocent and non threatening as possible. Her appearance was that of similar height to the boy in front of her, a tiny frame with a lithe body. Something that drew the boy's attention due to the fact that her seventh year robes had exposed much of her neck and shoulders, 

showing a generous view to the boy as he seemed to stare down at her shrinking frame.

The boy's head turned for a moment, as though he was regarding something someone had said. Only to see the booth empty mind a snowy owl. The boy turning his attention to her, his look more angry, tense, sexually frustrated. He glanced left and right, before his arm shot out and pulled her inside. Door closing.

Her control of the situation long gone as the moments passed. This man-no-boy had to be the one she had been dreaming of, yet he was no older than a second year! Yet as she found herself pinned to the seat as he loomed over her, the room heavy with magic and something else. She found herself lost in his presence as he looked down, their eyes meeting as he tilted her chin up smoothly as his eyes seemed to be churning. Jaw tensed as his eyes searched for something in her own. 

She was drowning in him.

Her body reacted the moment his breath hit her neck, almost like a gentle caress. Too used to the suddenness and needy moments at Hogwarts. That when something like this was happening slowly, burning her slowly, so intense that everything was melting around her as she gasped. His green eyes meetings her as a smirk placed itself on his face. Hungry, wanting, needing. What he needed at the moment, what he wanted was clear. Her.

His hand moved to pin hers above her head. His eyes never leaving hers as he closed the distance.

It was then and there that she knew she was fucked.

 

: illa vivit :

 

Dumbledore was a man of many talents, knowledgeable in many things. However, he had to admit he himself had little to know about the happenings of fate. In particular with Death, and its hallows. He knew one thing for sure, if history was to repeat itself. Who had fate chosen? The idea was simply an idea. Yet Harry Potter spurred everything, as for the past eleven years he could feel it. Magic, the ancient Arcana filling Hogwarts, magic of the fae surging awake from its dormant slumber for generations. 

He himself had learned of the Archaic magic and its power. As he knew it Dumbledore knew only a limited amount of individuals had proper information and knowledge regarding to the use of it: most notably, the Most Noble and Ancient of Houses. Thus was why Tom had learned such magics.

He sighed as he had hoped to gain answers from the eleven year old boy. History had told of Merlin fearing fate, and in an act to cheat Lady Fate. Doomed the future. To right his wrongs fate would arise three chosen- to whom of which death's champion would rise. A legend, a myth. Whatever one believed. Tom and Dumbledore had both silently agreed. Harry had to be the third chosen.

However it was with heavy heart to deem the boy the life he would take, the cost of his family for the future of his world.

He could only watch and listen. Time would tell, and he would then see, he would then act. Hopefully for better or worse. If One of the three were to be the last- he hoped indeed it would be the young boy. He held the weight of the future on his shoulders, so Dumbledore would guide him. 

He would do so to test the boy the best way he knew how. A plan to ensure the boy make the right decision-Harry's decision would be his own. It had to be.  
For now he leaned back with a tired sigh, as he watched the sorting hat apprehensively 

 

: illa vivit :

 

"Bones, Susan!"

The sorting hat grumbled out as it prepared itself for what would be another uneventful year. In all honesty, only a handful of individuals had caught his attention. The self proclaimed Maruaders brought a generation of talented people all connected through strings of fate, some marked by death. It was then that the last 'interesting' thing happened. the interest spurring Dumbledore to act, denying fate. Ah the nostalgia. 

However, it was now that something interesting was truly happening. All starting eleven years ago. A surge of magic that directly affected Hogwarts. Peculiar indeed. Even more so when said Susan Bones was placed under him. He could've worded that better.

Quickly repeating the process he was oh too familiar with he found what he had been searching for. A trace of old magic, older than him, older than even the founders. Yet as old as it was it was familiar. 

'Merlin's beard it's true!'

He could feel Susan's body shake as she nearly jumped. Her mind quickly responding.

'You can talk?!'

'well how else am I supposed to sort you?'

'oh.. Well okay then.'

Pushing through the familiar magic, was like walking through mud that was up to your waist. That's what the hat believed. Finding all the information necessary the hat nodded to itself.

'Strong will, loyal, hard working, this is a textbook case. The most peculiar thing however being the string of fate. You'll have a part to play miss.'

'What do you-'

'Hufflepuff!'

The hat needed to confirm his suspicions with everyone else to see if this was the year everything began.

 

: illa vivit :

 

"Granger, Hermione!"

The Sorting hat was curious. He had seen ancient magic, older than even him throughout his years. Strings of Fate and the marks of Death had been seen on multiple individuals. Yet this year alone held more magic, more remnants of them-of him. Something the hat didn't like, yet had little to do. The String of Fate was strong here, the role of this girl was very problematic.

'hello? So when is this interview to be underway?'

The hat this time was surprised. The first student in years to talk to the hat first.

'Oh- I'm sorry, I just thought that you would interview each student to determine their house.'

'Nonono. Young one, if everyone would be interviewed this would take to long. I discern the traits most prominent within you that even you might not know of. Then in turn decide which house to be placed in.'

The girl paused. As though assessing his little explanation. The Sorting Hat once again beginning to search the mind of the girl. Only to find more of what he had indeed been searching for. Archaic Magic, and even more interesting. Fae Magic.

'What house would grant me the most knowledge... The most answers for the questions I have?'

If the hat could laugh, it would have. If he could do an eyeroll-he would. So much like her was this one. So much in fact, he could only see her in that house in the end.  
'what house are you-'

"Ravenclaw!"

he loved doing that.

 

: illa vivit :

 

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

This time, the hat was prepared. Familiarizing itself with the influx of Archaic magic had led it to be able to grasp the fact that there were a handful of witches and wizards with a unique relationship to magic-something the hat had hoped Albus would catch onto.

However, the moment the hat graced the girls head, he could only shudder at the sheer presence the girl had accumulated, something he had not seen in far too long.

'Slytherin if you will.'

'So... Hasty in your decision. Do you forget that I am the one who is to 'sort' you into the house best suited for you?' The hat had many similar to her- only mere moments upon their head before a house was determined. Yet hers was as open as the sea, and far as the planes of the sky. Why was she so set on the House of Salazar-fate perhaps pushing for her direction.

'As an heir of a Most Noble and Ancient House. Our history runs deep with Slytherin. As well as the answers I seek are to be found in that very house. I don't particularly lack those traits do I?'

'interesting indeed. so be it- "Slytherin!'"

This one's fate was interesting, the girl clearly taking her path in stride.

 

: illa vivit :

 

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Neville could only move forward in hesitance. Something his grandmother would berate him for. Yet for someone of his 'history', he didn't quite feel it at times. So as he sat on the far to little stool, watched by far to many people. He could only shrink down as suddenly, his head was filled with an older, resounding voice.

'Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, these are the choices, these are the paths to tread. No-You expect to follow in the footsteps of your parents: to be brave and courageous in the face of danger? Well you shall learn that, however you shall do so differently than those of that house!'

"Hufflepuff!!"

Neville could only look wide eyed.

'lad, fate has much in store for you. You either rise for the occasion, or fall before greatness.'

What was going on?

 

: illa vivit :

 

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Draco let out a victory sigh of relief, as for the first time in his life. He had relative freedom, a smirk on his face as he approached the sorting hat. Other than the run in with Potter, and whatever it was that he had did. Everything was going relatively as he deducted.

Assert his presence among the first years. He had done with relative ease, with his only issue in the form of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. A slight problem as Potter seemed already peeved, nonetheless he had made progress with most of the already presumed future House of Slytherin. Potter would most likely stick in Gryffindor as did most-if not all the Potters of history.

His first step of the ambitious plan laid before him was taken. Then again his plan had stemmed from his upbringing.

He was six when he was first hit with the Crucio. The reason being for scoring below the marks his father deemed 'Necessary of a Most Noble and Ancient house'. It was then that he had begun to undergo the intense training that was to prepare him for Hogwarts. His father being a radical supporter of the Dark Lord Voldemort had told him that Slytherin was his for the taking. Only if he had deserved so.

So for the next five years he had spent training in dueling, Quidditch, his magic, and teaching himself spells. He had undergone testing by his father, all for the purpose of having a 'pureblood's place'. Something he believed was now his. Something he had achieved, and only show from this moment.

Even if he was free he knew he had work to do. Hogwarts was just another stepping stone. He would rule Hogwarts as its king, and it would start with Slytherin. A proud smile on his face, for now he did not have to worry about his father. He didn't have to be the 'son of Lucius Malfoy'. 

He was Draco, heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy.

'Interesting. Fate has chosen many but you... You are indeed one of many choices... hmm..'

Draco frowned, 'What do you mean you hat? I thought we were simply speaking about sorting and houses?'

Draco swore the hat scoffed. 'I do many things Malfoy. I see what is capable of all students, as I see what claims the past lay on them. The houses are simply paths for a student to walk-yet here yours is blank. Of all those tied to fate yours is more free-not predetermined by fate so open for change. Loyalty and hard working- Intelligent-yet with courage buried by years of ambition- ah ambition. This is where your calling may go.'

The boy only sighed, 'well get on with it. Tell me what you mean you old heirloom.'

'now, now. I can only see what could and what can happen. Not will. However, be as it may.'

The Hat grumbled to itself before shouting.

"Slytherin!"

 

: illa vivit :

 

"Potter, Harry!"

'It's good to see you again Myrddin.'

'Again with this.' the boy grumbled. The hat feeling the overwhelming pressure of the boys mind, his magic flooding everything. 'I've yet to get answers.'

'Answers I cannot give.'

'Then what's my connection to Merlin?'

The Hat paused. What could it say? What could it do for this situation? The pieces were all moving, the strings pulled taut and connecting. 'if you seek answers, I can only hint that your magic will guide you. However, the path that must be taken is-'

'don't you-'

"Slytherin!"

Silence. The boy only more frustrated, more confused, of a destiny he knew nothing of. However the hat believed that the only saving grace would be his own power and desire to learn the truth.

 

: illa vivit :

 

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Here it was-out of all the students this year, Potter being who he had hypothesized to be, Draco to be the first choice, the change of Longbottom's fate. This boy right here would decide everything. 

'Ronald Weasley'

An awkward silence.

'Do you wish to be sorted of he house of your family? To learn to be brave, to garner courage within yourself?'

more silence.

'No matter what is told to you my boy, however put down you are. They are the actions and words of others. You decide who you will be, what you will do, and if you are capable. I have met Ravenclaws who were not the most intelligent or wise, Slytherins who were not the most cunning or ambitious. Gryffindors can lose courage and don't have to be brave, as even Hufflepuffs can be lazy and loyal to no one but themselves. you decide if you wish to step up, and claim what you seek through your own power.'

The read head shook slightly, seemingly almost in tears. He could feel it, the boys emotions crashing down: the fear of disappointment, that he would not amount to anything other than a named 'Weasley' of Hogwarts. A resolve growing-though small-from the child.

'I want to be a Hero that others will look up to.'

'Good lad.'

'I'll be the best there is for me to be, and be better.'

'That's it!'

'I want to be brave, courageous, I'll change what others think of me!'

'Then it shall be' The hat laughed, straightening itself for all to hear. "Gryffindor!"

 

: illa vivit :

 

Fate smiled, Death frowned.

"You've changed so much- are you sure about this?"

"I'm Fate. Of course I am."

The two shared a look, before death turned. Fate to lost in her own achievement to notice the seething void that was Death's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Sorting Hat] In History Of Hogwarts the Hat is known to be just as old-if not older. The creation of such a magnificent act of transfiguration, enchanting, and charming ahead of its time, that the founders themselves are the only known to succeed in such a magical act [The Philosopher's Stone was an act of Alchemy]
> 
> So to prevent the lack of an update every week I want to open a Discord I guess- where information regarding the story will be kept- Such as a spell list- Notes of Myrddin, excerpts of ancient text( That's something to be touched upon later. As well as Notes for the world building I wish to do for this, as well as a place for me to play music while I write. The downside however is similar to this site- I know nothing. So I will be looking for people to help me in this case. However that is only if you all are interested- This is going to be book one of a series ill be calling 'The Series of Twisted Fates'. if I figure out how to do so.
> 
> Anyway comment what you guys think- We'll be getting to the good stuff finally! Action, uh.. Bullshit. Oliver Wood Being Oliver wood. Ronald being Ron- I want to make this clear- I want these characters to feel more human. Real emotions. so there will be conflict in characters. It makes them feel real. I dunno, am I being pretentious? -Kerone


	8. The Starting shifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day alone holds many paths for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discord is up! uh. It is a bit slow due to the fact that it's just me and one other. Hopefully we can get it active and so! As I will be updating the Discord with every chapter- With more in depth information regarding the world: It's magic, its creatures, etc. If you have any questions about anything- ask there! 
> 
> Bloody Hell- if you want information that i haven't covered ask and ill add it to the discord (As long as it doesn't spoil the series)
> 
> Seek the truth on Discord-Where hints to the future of the series are already hidden! join others to find it!
> 
> Enough advertising XD, Enjoy -Kerone

[The Battle of Camlann]

 

Merlin let out a spell. Staff raised high as "Forhergian!" was heard in through the bloodied battle. Bodies protected by enchanted and runic armor shredded easily as The Magister's mana manifested, the Arcana bending and becoming a weapon. Barriers were broken as the wizards behind them screamed, bodies tearing from the ravaging spell. The group of people remaining mortally injured as he scanned the battlefield, raising to the air.

The battle was long-worn, and bloody. Broken banners of Pendragon's army, the remains of it, had created a temporary camp. Tents pitched and wounded being healed. Merlin let out a tired sigh as he felt a shift- a tearing sound- and found himself in the presence of Arthur Pendragon, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and a red eyed Salazar Slytherin. 

"How is everything my-"

"Don't bullshit me Myrddin..." Arthur spoke. Tired eyes and body tensed. The King could only let out a weak cough as he leaned forward: A map centered on the table. "We need you to be serious... Mordred is razing everything to the ground.."

A silence filled the room as Merlin didn't respond. Eye's betraying him as it wasn't that he didn't answer- he couldn't.

Arthur continued seeing his silence. "The Arcana... It isn't like yours, it's not as pure as the Fae's or versatile as a Magister.. It's darker, corrupted. Myrddin your son grew wings! Horns! He's no longer human.. We need to stop this."

Merlin looked away. Salazar was shaking, for someone who had lost his wife and oldest son, Merlin was indeed surprised at how he had control of the Arcana.

"If anyone is to stop him it's me. Ill end everything tonight. Morgana will never forgive me for what I will do. Nor will she know. Take this to your graves."

He turned and left. Leaving behind what ignorance he had left in his life before learning what would change everything.

 

: illa vivit :

 

[Hogwarts, 'The Founding']

 

"I'm telling you Godric, Hogwarts is our- I repeat- our project together. However that doesnt mean we cant add personal touches." The brunette-Rowena-pushed. Frustration evident as she eyed the older wizard opposite of her, ignoring the man as he sighed.

"So a 'room of requirement' would do what for the school?" Salazar hissed in response. heh, hissed. cheeky bastard.

"I agree with Rowena- Using the spatial magic of a Fierlan Springan as a base we can make a room that can be anything and everything!" Helga retorted.

Godric let out a sigh. Their 'project' of the first wizarding school was finally coming to realization, A school for the magically gifted, where the courses would be easy enough (Though Salazar was being stingy for the potions curriculum). If students wished to learn more of magic- the later years would provide extra classes as a student got older. There was of course the 'library' which held what Rowena was calling 'modernized spells, simple yet effective for the youth'. Something to be added on-which he personally found a bit...Buggering considering that Hogwarts had already held much more complex magic, yet if anything far more powerful- placed in the Archives hidden for students to find that truly sought magic more than what was learned.

Alas, Godric's plan for a 'hidden treasure hunt' for ancient texts would be halted, however, oddly enough. The four friends had found a new problem other than the library: Personal projects between each of the friends. For Rowena-A Room of Requirement that would work to be what the user needed.

His thoughts were interrupted by Salazar slamming his fist on the table. "A Room of Requirement would be fundamentally useless unless you were seeking to hide something that others could not find without knowing what they are truly seeking. What are you hiding from us Rowena?"

"Nothing you old fart! It's still better than a 'Chamber of Secrets'!"

"That Chamber could prove to save the lives of hundreds if Hogwarts were to be attacked!"

"Attacked by what?"

"The Muggleborns bred by war! The Dragonkin! The.. The Fel!"

The room went silent. The tension of the room thick as their faces were taught. Mixed emotions. Salazar had points, The Dragonkin had long since left their 'realm' hidden by mists and mountains. The mundane world was still filled with wars, battles, and pain. However, the Fel. . . The Fel was as close to the devil one could get after all, especially as names held power. Godric moved to speak, interrupted as Salazar shot up. Eyes seething with pained vengeance 

"If Fae is what the mundane consider angels. That makes the Fel the devils that corrupt good men-good wizards. Godric so help me you did not lose what more I could. So you'd never understand. Don't patronize me that I worry for a threat that could openly happen in the future. If it's one thing that Merlin taught us that i truly do believe. Living a Hero lasts until you find yourself the Villain. If it could happen to his son then truly. We are doomed without proper preparation. Something I will do no matter the odds."

He turned as his robes billowed. Marching out the hidden room within Hogwarts. Many to be found indeed.

Godric let that sit in, what else could he say? War was war, battle was battle, not some fancy duel for sport. No- it was ugly, and good men lose themselves in it. His body shook as he palmed the hilt of his sword. Letting it calm him as he remembered that he was alive- able to change something for the better. Why not the Wizarding world as a whole?

"Helga. Rowena."

The two woman shifted. The tone in his voice a war tone. One with command, one with presence.

"We will work on my project first. Rowena: Disapparation will be the new form of travel in the future, far easier... Set up wards to prevent the use of it. Please."  
The tone was asking, but not pleading. Evident that she could refuse, but knew better as she stood to leave. Work in mind.

"Helga. Please set upon enchanting the statues, the knights. They're more resilient than charms, and your enchanting is the best I know."

"And what will you do?"

"Ensure Salazar doesn't do anything stupid."

"You... Should not do that..." She said slowly, Unmoving as she stared him down. He ran a hand through his red curls as he sighed at her response. "Let me. I'll enchant the knights only after you ensure you imbue them with your magic. It'll make them more sturdy to magic."

They stared into each other's eyes before he only managed a weak smile. "Of course."

Helga smiled as she sighed, turning her head. "Rowena that workaholic."

He laughed.

 

: illa vivit :

 

[Hogwarts, 1943]

 

Interesting. It seemed that he was being guided-by what he didn't know, but what mattered was that it wasn't the fool Dumbledore. No, what was leading him was older, something that knew these passages and the halls-able to find the writings on them that seemed to lead to a part of Hogwarts even he didn't know of.

The guide- a single green light treaded down the emptied hall, a single door opening the moment the light passed it. This wasn't the Chamber of Secrets, no, this was older. Older than Hogwarts if the contents of the room were to go by: Tomes, Grimoires, orbs, scrolls, and tablets floated seamlessly through the open room. Everything oozed of archaic and ancient power, the familiarity of the Arcana filling the room.

"Welcome Tom Riddle, to the Arcanic Archives. What remains of Myrddin, Mordred, and Morgana's Mortal magic. However know this, your choice decides for you the path you tread. The first to enter here since the founding has finally pushed forward accepting his fate. What will you do?"

Tom was faced with a breathtaking beauty. Indigo eyes that bordered a dark shade of violet, hair as black as the night sky complimented by pale skin and an ashen dress. Her smile small, twisted as though she knew something he did not. Three things revolved around her: mere lights of power as they cycled slowly. He couldn't make them out, but he could feel it. The overpowering Arcana that he had grown accustomed to feeling more prominent in those three items than anything he had ever seen.

"The founders built Hogwarts from ruin. The ruins being one of Merlin's fabled libraries. Filled with knowledge untold but hidden from the world through magic and mist. Rowena was one of the few to find this place, but her tie to fate was not to here like your and the others are." She was upon him in that moment, matching his gaze with eyes that peered into his split soul. The notebook in his hand burning as though it might catch fire any moment. Though they were only inches apart he felt as though the world only consisted of her and him. An odd feeling as his mind instantly triggered what was happening. In the heat of impulse-uncharacteristic for him-he lunged, his horcrux on the ground as his left hand held her throat, his right held his wand.

"|What are you doing?|." He hissed in the all to familiar language of snakes. She was doing something, creating impulses, ideas that were not his. Enticing him with everything he wanted, everything he needed. More importantly how to get there.

The woman gave him a sultry smile. "Of all of Myrddin and Peverell's lineage, he chose Ignotus. You have been cheated of your true destiny. I am here to change that." Her voice rang clear, her face betraying nothing as she glanced at his wand in mock 'fear'. Tom grit his teeth.

"Stop speaking nonsense of a past that has nothing to do with me! I'll kill you... It'll only take two words." 

"Then what? make a second horcrux? Boy that magic is older than you believe, with a past connected to much, much more." The woman had the audacity to scoff. 

"Avada Kedavra!"

The world slowed, Tom wide eyed in surprise as it didn't slow as it usually did. No, the space around himself and the woman seemed to come to a pause. The sickly green spell still in the air-unmoving as the woman removed herself from his frozen grip. Eyes watching him as she shook her head, disappointment evident as he felt anger fill in response.

"You are not him nor could you be."

He could only stand in frozen silence as she gave him a smirk.

"The old world is gone. Of the three paragons only one remains. Their champions chosen by me, thus is your fate." She held out her hand as the Arcana churned, condensing into a purple form, it shifted, it changed. In the minutes he stared frozen by not just time but by awe, he saw her bend the magic of the world, control it, claim it as its vibrant lilac color was changed. No longer smooth as it was erratic, controlled as it moved rampantly, the air burning around the magic as its color changed to a jade tone. The room illuminated by a blight green as Tom himself felt a feeling he had never felt: Fear. Not for his plans, his goals to be brought down. But his life, that he would die here, a nameless student of Hogwarts in a hidden part of the world only he and a few others had discovered.

"The first champion accepts his, willing to do anything to write the wrongs of the past sins. Where your fate holds death, you already fear it, deny it. seeking something you cannot have."

He could feel himself move, but unlike his thoughts, his body betrayed him as he dropped to his knees. 

"Deny death and the claims he holds. Challenge me for your fate. For that you must fight."

Visions filled his head. Him making his steps forward into the future: Loyal followers and slaves, beautiful witches serving him, status of a Lord of Darkness. Feared and respected he had everything-until in a single act had lost it. Only years after would he return, a mere shadow of the man he once was-losing to a child, A teenager much like him! No, was this his fate? Everything was a blur, he could not see, he could only understand. Understand an end that was so close yet so far, in reach but threatened by what fate had in store for him. Had.

He refused for his life to end as it had. Killed when everything was so close, a fate to lose everything he had strived for, aimed for. He was willing to kill, to take what would be his, what WAS! He refused for fate to end his life like this.

"yes.. Yes! YES!"

He felt his body slowly moving, reacting to her cheer as he felt the world move around him move once more, The killing curse gone from his wand, frozen in mid air only to surge forward with renewed vigor, striking an invisible wall in front of the woman's cruel and unforgiving smile.

"Deny me! Deny the destiny cast by fate! You will achieve the power you wish, the power you want! You will not lose to a child! Your choice, may it be Mordred who denied his own as well! Forging a path of blood and power! A halfling of Fae and man- driven for power of greatness he rose only to fall!"

Tom was finally able to move, thanking the timing as he caught a pitch black grimoire. Bound by two chains, green runes glowing as it made contact with him- Melting. His arms lit up on pain, and he screamed. Not just a normal scream of pain, but the kind that made your throat hurt, mouth dry, tears form as he felt his arms boil, bleed, and scar. His arm beginning to burn a black flame as suddenly a black mark formed on his arm before disappearing. A snake and skull, contrasting his skin with its black mark. 

"Mordred's mark: His namesake of 'control' and 'moderation'. Your followers control of their lives and magic will be yours if they use it, and in doing so bear your loyalty! The first step to denying fate. Tread the path of Fel and power will be yours."

Tom felt nothing but pain and light headedness as the world seemed to change. Eyes opening to find himself back in his bed, a headache, and a black grimoire in hand. whispers filling his head.

"A powerful mind. One much like my own. Potential is vast here only if you are capable of pursuing it."

Tom shot up. His head spiking in pain. "Your... Your name!" He groaned out as he lurched forward grasping his head. However as soon as the pain had struck him- it vanished, his head relaxing as he closed his eyes in relief.

"Now is not the time. However time for you is of the essence. You will corrupt the Arcana with my knowledge and in doing so power will be yours."

Tom only nodded, images filling his mind of the powers he could obtain. The glory he would gain, and the fear and respect earned. The cost of all these meaning nothing as he saw what mattered most. He smiled. "I accept. Where do we begin?" 

"Your mind is your greatest weapon. Occlumency will be a start before delving into its deeper roots."

What mattered most: Cheating death. Yes he would deny the fate he would have by carving this new path. He would not fall, only rise. Death was merely a challenge to be bested.

: illa vivit :

Harry was not brooding, no matter what was said, or what anyone thought. He was not acting like a prick nor was he being aggressive. Okay, maybe he was acting threatening. Though that was due to the lack of threats he knew of, and more of what he didn't know. 

The year had barely begun and it already was starting to be more eventful than he wanted it to be. First with Hedwig's claim of the Arcana beginning to hurt him because of it being different. However 'volatile' it was he knew the reason was more than that, far from natural. Was it the Arcana that made him so aggressive? His thoughts filled of the girl from the train. Perplexing to say the least as he remembered what had happened.

He was arguing with Hedwig, something he didn't like doing, as anger seemed to flare his magic. but as they argued he could feel it, a lulling sound in the back of his head. A calling, an attraction, a pull. However it wasn't to the pale beauty who he had been embracing as they kissed, and as he opened the door to find the source. He was angry at the thought of someone enticing him to them, and prepared to punish them, it was with an odd sense of realization that it was a girl seemingly a year or two older. A bob of cinnamon colored hair, doe like hazel eyes, and a small body that was shown with robes worn by someone taller.

The robes were of someone older was what she was wearing. Was she borrowing them or hand me downs- no they were new. So he had acted upon this information. Intimidation, and anger still in him from the fact that he had felt this before- with Hermione, the girl from the wand store, and a moment later with a blonde girl with the sharpest blue eyes. Yet he still didn't know why he was feeling it with even another person! "What do you want?"

Hedwig's eyes had flashed with amusement as he glanced to her, she was an owl now. 

Fuck.

He pulled her into the compartment, seating her as he was hit with the first feeling of something that he definitely had never felt before. Her eyes were yearning, and his jaw tensed. His magic-the Arcana was reaching out to her with the feeling of want, as though they were meeting after years of separation. But he had never met this girl, yet spent the passing moment teasing her, feeding both the sensation he was feeling and what he assumed was hers. Different from Hedwig as his body burned, stomach not filled with butterflies but thunder and lightning as something just clicked.

When he pinned her under him, her eyes conveying the same of which he felt. He had only kissed her before he had just as suddenly felt his magic surge in a way he never felt: Unlike the dangerous nature of the Arcana he was learning to control. This wave of magic that came was pure, overwhelming in its nature of something he couldn't quite explain to himself. 

All he knew was that he felt a rather loud gasp- and her mouth open in a silent scream, and as he pulled back with alarm. Her eyes were hazy, half lidded in a trance as she slumped onto her side, unconscious. 

What was that?

Hedwig always told him his fate was his to command, to accept or deny, or make his own. Yet he didn't feel like it after recalling the event. Whatever was pulling him was out of his command, his acceptance, or denial as he seemed to crumble to it. He knew nothing of that fate, of that future, and knew even less of what he thought he had learned. What was Hedwig not telling him, or what could she not tell him? He'd have to wait, because Hedwig had decided to postpone training. For what reason was beyond him- he figured that the year would be easy enough. Yet Hedwig only smiled before dismissing him.

He hated not knowing- first with Hedwig, then with that crazy wand maker, now with the stupid hat. He was more confused, and that made him only more frustrated. Caught in the thoughts of what was happening, and what it all meant. He was learning Archaic magic, but was it Arcanal Magic? Was there a difference? Myrddin, he didn't even know who that was. He knew nothing from Hedwig in learning names. He knew Merlin but were they the same? He felt as though there was more to it, more to the puzzle. Yet what did he know about it? 

"Potter!"

When someone yells your name, of course you turn to see the idiot that had to shout instead of simply speaking. He closed his eyes, feeling his frustration building yet trying to control it. He felt his head get light for a moment as he adjusted his glasses. Feeding it magic to activate it's use: Something he was going to start using now rather than impulsively not thinking about it. He needed to vent his magic so might as well start with a little bit. He let out a sigh as he turned his head, and opened his eyes.

 

: illa vivit :

 

Draco was... Intrigued. He had expected Potter to have end up like every Potter before him: Gryffindor- an aspect that The Malfoy line had to respect for the capability of the most noble house. The fact that Potters were generally talented in something-quidditch also-had put Harry on a watchlist for Draco's father. They were capable, skilled, and drew people to them. James Potter was a driving force against his father and Lord Voldemort, the people that followed him: loyal not by fear but by trust. Something that was respected. Was Harry Potter the same? 

After all it took a certain amount of prowess, skill, talent, and power to deny Lord Voldemort thrice.

So when the Sorting Hat had placed the pretentious prat in Slytherin-throwing a quaffle in his plans-Draco had to do something. So he watched him, trying to figure out the boy-who-lived. From the moment he saw the blatant-if not pretentious-robes that boasted the Potter family crest, to the walk to the Slytherin Common Rooms. He had learned indeed that Slytherin was 'stacked' this year in favor for the next seven years to be dominated by the House of Cunning and Ambition: If Potter was anything like his parents- Charms and transfiguration would be the boy's strongest classes. He himself knew he was exceptional in all classes-he was a Malfoy after all. Greengrass was also intelligent, and expected her to be talented in what her family was known for: Ancient Runes, magical theory, and ghoul studies. A long standing rumor that the Greengrass were necromancers, and that they practiced the lost use of magical circles.

His mind then went into a silent thought process. Doing the calculations of those capable and what they were capable of. Yes this generation was to be Green and Silver.  
The only real wild card being Potter however. 

Draco knew that he himself alone could achieve greatness with Slytherin. Yet The air around Potter seemed to crackle after the Sorting Hat had placed him. A questioning look on his calm face as Slytherin responded with laugh and cheers. The room filling with sneers from Slytherin as it was all directed to Gryffindor- a move like this was the same as a smack to the face. Yet while everyone had made noise he-and unsurprisingly Daphne Greengrass-had took notice of Potter's annoyance. Using the Malfoy name would work for everyone in his house: Except Potter it seemed. Dropping his name would be the equivalent of handing him a contract without a pen and Potter simply tossing it.

Draco had nothing on Potter, and the boy-who-lived had no inclination to listen to him at all either. A loose cannon was one that could shoot anytime, anywhere, and at anyone. That was a danger, and he needed to take control. It was only a matter of when.

So when the opportunity presented itself: the walk to the entrance of House Slytherin's common room. Each student funneling in with hushed whispers and speculations, leaving Harry and Draco alone in the halls, the prefect watching them only nodding to Draco in a silent understanding. Behind the prefect were Crabbe and Goyle, loyal lackeys waiting for him at a moments notice . Potter still in thought as he seemed to look distantly in front of him, his eyes seemingly glowed, though it might have just been the torch light. Malfoy connections were truly a given: He would rule Slytherin, and right now he needed to show it.

"Potter!"

In the single moment after the shout, the world slowed. Potter's face twisted in frustration as he swore this time his eyes were glowering as he closed them. His glasses shimmering in the torch light with a violent tint. Slowly he turned, opening his eyes: the glowering was gone, replaced by a questioning look that only riled him. In reflex he felt anger rise in him, however he kept himself relatively calm.

He sneered. "Let me tell you something Potter." finding his voice as he straightened his back. Undeterred by what could be compared to the gaze of a Basilisk, he took slow, small steps forward, trying to assert himself as he kept the faux smirk. "Slytherin is mine to rule. . . It'd be wise to fall in line now before you get crushed in the long run." He stated off handedly, raising a fist and making the motion of 'crushing' potter under his thumb. However as he waited for a response, he was met instead with silence. A deafening silence as Potter's emerald eyes seemed to burn into his soul. 

"is the ferret trying to talk to me?"

Draco could barely raise his occlumency shields before he felt what was a titanic blow to the shields of his mind, nearly shattering his defenses. His face snapping as he felt himself fly backwards yet opened his eyes to find himself exactly how he was: unmoving. What the bloody hell was that?

"P-p-p-Potter!" He hissed weakly, "What did you do to-"

"Silence." 

His world spun, Draco dropping to his knees as he felt a suffocating presence fill his head, lungs full of something-anything but air. Gasping he clawed at his throat as he groaned, however to his drowning senses it only sounded like an animalistic yelp. His vision shaking, the world seemed to shimmer as he felt magic swarm him, pinning him to his knees, crushing him with such pressure he could only hold onto his consciousness through his Occlumency.

"Ah, you sound like one too." Potter growled. His footsteps thundering in Draco's ears. Potter's voice seemed to be everywhere, anywhere, overwhelming everything all over again into a painful process. Tears welling in his eyes as they seemed to burn him. 

"Mod Licgan. The 'Mind's Lie'." He raised his foot as he pressed down on Draco's shoulder. "Just strong enough to overload the senses and the mind. Feeding you lies." He pressed down harder as Draco tried to resist. It felt less painful than the forbidden curse cast by his father, however that didn't mean it wasn't any less painful. "Just like this: Slytherin is not yours to rule."

Draco feebly lifted his head with clenched teeth and a glare in his teary eyes. Who was he?!

"It'd be wise to fall in line now before you.. Get crushed was it?" 

Like that the pressure was gone as Potter lifted his foot. His senses flooding as he took gasps of breath as he took a moment to recover. Potter's gaze like headlights as he stared up at this... Being of power. 

Draco knew that this was going to be Slytherin's year. Something he respected coming that Potter would be standing as an important role. He only grimaced however as he growled  
"Potter. . . You'll hear-" 

"From no one Draco." He growled. His voice making an echo within his mind once more. "You're right. Slytherin is yours to be ruled: But Hogwarts is mine."

He began walking past him as suddenly the air seemed to dampen-the pressure lessening as he began his walk to the Slytherin common room. Passing Crabbe and Goyle, pants stained and wide eyed. mumbling apologies as Potter moved past them with stride.

 

: illa vivit :

 

Alicia Briar sat in the Slytherin Common room with an annoyed expression. Every student was to be in their common room after the feast- and within their dorms appropriately early for the long day ahead. The only exception to the rule were prefects: and those intelligent enough to not get caught. The brunette however sighed as she leaned back from the couch. She had been given a generous 'donation' to help the Malfoy family's heir. So she merely gave the brat the chance to stomp out whoever he had already deemed a threat. Funny enough said target was someone that already had garnered the attention of the entirety of the school: Harry fucking Potter. A very interesting turn of events if you asked her. However if one just asked the right questions. It didn't take a genius to realize that while Malfoy was indeed talented, Potter was already at a level different than his fellow first years. It was years at Hogwarts of learning who the strong would be. She'd bail Malfoy out of whatever situation he was bound to end up in to curry favor. 

Slytherin does what they must for ambition, all with strict cunning.

"You are one of theprefects.. Correct?"

Her baby blue eyes snapped to the entrance of the common room, meeting an intense gaze of green. Piercing and freezing her like a basilisk, she reflexively tensed under such an analytic gaze. This was the look that could still even the most experienced purebloods. Her body shifting as she recalled gazes like his all too well, back straightening, legs uncrossing. 

Her voice, slightly strained as she tried to sound like the one in control. 

"yes, I am one of the current prefects in Slytherin." She didn't need to tell the child that the others were currently patrolling, as she was the only one here in the commons. Her fifth year counterpart ensuring each student had found their dorms accordingly. "What.. Of it?" she paused her sentence, a formality as she raised a brow to the boy. 

". . . Harry."

She steeled herself as she stood, calmly and slowly. As she raised her arm, showcasing the room to the first year she went for a neutral look. "Welcome to the Slytherin Common rooms" She said nonchalantly. "Dorms are split between males and females, the lower the levels the older the rooms: First, second, and third years share rooms. The deeper you go the nicer the rooms as well, Head boy and prefects have their own rooms accordingly. A little note that unlike the other houses. Rooms can be 'fought' over. Challenge the occupant of a room to a duel for their room. if you want your own room, duel someone."

Harry seemed to nod, it was clear that although he was from a Most Noble House, he seemed to know nothing of the magical world. Odd. 

"Other than that. Rooms aren't charmed, or protected. So if you make enemies in 'the snake pit'. Sleep with one eye open." She wasn't going to tell him that the Dorms weren't warded nor charmed to prevent the opposite gender from entering. She wouldn't tell everyone that little tidbit. 

"Thank you miss. . .?"

"Briar. Alicia Briar."

As he left for the dorms- her mind seemed to fuzz over as he passed. Unlike Occlumency however this was just something enticing, a desire. A flame sparking to life as she turned her head. Only to find him gone. 

She was always in the know of everything, knew anything and everything that happened in this castle. So when news of Harry Potter was in Hogwarts, in Slytherin, and something, something was with him-no-he had something. 

Her first meeting with Harry Potter- and already there was more to the boy that she was curious to know of.

Her train of thought broken by three figures timidly entering the common room. Draco Malfoy, and his goonies Crabbe and Goyle. The trio pale faced with. . . Soiled robes? Malfoy as the head glanced up at Alicia before his face shifted- or attempted- to a blank mask. 

"For giving me time with Potter, I'll ensure your relation with house Malfoy to be set." He muttered as he and his goonies made their way to the dorms. 

Yes, for what it was worth- she would need information on the Boy-who-Lived.

 

: illa vivit :

 

Harry sighed as he made a beeline for the nicest room within the Boy's dorm. Alicia had told him that the further one went- the better the rooms were. As a Slytherin he would be ambitious no? He sighed as he figured Hedwig would want him to shoot for the top- she was preparing him to lead. So lead he would-Hogwarts was going to be his, starting with Slytherin: He would let Malfoy run the snake pit if he proved himself. 

He paused as he took in how the hall had indeed changed- the simple stone walls becoming closer to finely crafted marble. Interesting indeed. He sighed as he deduced to be around the seventh year dorms- the prefects seemed to have the best of each year's dorm, though the Head boy seemed to have the best room.  
He wouldn't mind a 'duel' with a firs year right?

He smirked as he knocked.

 

: illa vivit :

 

The door opened in grand fashion. The room's noise becoming hushed whispers. Snape's robes billowing behind him as he strode to the front of the classroom, efficiently, with poise. He leered down at all the students with his naturally bank expression. His class was of his new snakes, and the ever so tiresome Gryffindors. Surveying the room in a 'teacherly' matter he took notice of the signs of 'talent' and 'skill'.

Hermione Granger seemed to be the only one of the red and gold to hold any form of proficiency in potions as she dedicatedly read from her potions textbook. However it was one of the Patil twins that also seemed to be reading- if not more lax.

His Slytherins however held promise: Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, and. . .

"Potter." He nearly sneered- his voice already dripping with a condescending drawl and-wait.

"Why. . ." He grit out. "Do you have a Cauldron made of solid Gold?"

There the said item was, front and center on the Slytherin's side of the room. Snape was surprised he didn't notice it now as he himself was confused at the presence, the gal!

"Well the List said Cauldron. . ."

His eyes snapped to the boy beside the cauldron. Meeting the all to familair gaze of those green eyes. Her green eyes. However that was where it ended. The boy was not Lily-no, it was laughable at how he looked. Truly after his father, in no way would Potter be so much like her. 

He sneered. "I do believe that it explicitly said 'Pewter'."

"Well isn't that due to its affordability?"

"Are you to say that you are above the recommendations made by the staff of items needed for your year."

"No- They were merely suggestions, recommended for affordability and use. I notice not all the students here are using Pewter. In fact." He lazily turned his head to the front of the room. "You have one that is close to Pewter, but clearly better."

Snape grit his teeth. In which he began the best way to deal with a troublesome student like him: Shame.

"If one was to mix Jaded Grassroot and Powdered Moonstone into a mixture of the concoction of a potion of the 'troubled mind'. What would be it's reaction?"

A pause, as the boy seemed to even think of a solution. 

"Odd-since Jaded Grassroot is meant to calm the senses and Powdered Moonstone is to cleanse the soul. The goal would be to in turn change the potion of 'troubled mind' to one of a 'Draught of Calm mind'. Though if you wanted a draught like that just brew it normally instead of adding to an already created potion."

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"If a Bezoar were to be used in a potion how-"

"Nope. A Bezoar must be swallowed whole. Powdering it dulls the effect to the point where it's basically the 'thought' that counts."

The next handful of questions had been with increasing difficulty, meant to stump the young upstart. However he seemed to come with the solution as if recalling a fond memory. He wanted to go on, but only paused as he waved his wand at the board. Instructions showing themselves as he grumbled. 

"15 Points to Slytherin."

The memory was like a bad headache, Snape only brooding as he made his way to the headmaster's office, robes billowing behind him. Something was off about this child.

: illa vivit :

Filius Flitwick had seen many things in his life as a Goblin Wizard. From his journey to becoming a Hogwarts professor, while still keeping ties to his Goblin kin- He knew many things. 

Yet when news of his. . . Family had spread to even him, even if he didn't keep in direct contact with the: Yet here he was, a Goblin Prince oddly enough. Even he was surprised to find out that the Chief Jobberwok- a position vacant for centuries, had been filled by a child. The same child who excelled in his class as well. That only made things even more bewildering. From the Arcana in the air when he entered the room- to those affected by it. It appeared that those around the boy had their Arcana react in one of two ways.

One: Their Arcana eased their magic- giving those around him more control, more leniency with their magic. They would cast with a form of relaxed ease, their magic prominent in what could be seen as skill-at first glance. No, it was all due to something Harry seemed to do.

Two: Their Arcana would spike: power would surge, as would their magic, but in a less controlled manner. Volatile, wild, and even uncontrolled if the student began to stress themselves just too much. It seemed to happen to those who had less experience with magic. As they would cast with too much force, or even to little. 

Peculiar. The new head Jobberwok- though a child was no child at all, a terrifying feat.

As he made his way to the headmaster's office for the 'first day evaluation'. Other than Potter there were even more Peculiar things and more peculiar people to talk about with Albus in the possible future after all 

 

: illa vivit :

 

Minerva took a sip from her cup of tea as she waited for the other head of houses. The first day being eventful to say the least. From her promising lions, to the surprise of Harry being so talented with his background of being raised in the mundane. . . Was Albus right about Harry's 'gifts'?

It was her class of Slytherin and Hufflepuff. An influx of magic in the room, as well as the fact that some of the students had been performing at such a level that momentarily she forgot the notion that she was teaching first years. From those raised with a magical background to those without, there was such little of the gap from the fact that the spells seemed to do the work themselves!

The other thing that caught her attention was the beginning of the class: Where Harry seemed to be the only one who knew of her being the cat. As well as his father's innate talent for transfiguration. 

"Minerva my dear is something the matter?"

Her head turned to the Headmaster of Hogwarts: Albus Dumbledore.

"Nothing Albus." She stated offhandedly. 

"That's the look you get when students catch your eye." A twinkle was in his as he smiled, popping a lemon drop in his mouth. "Who are the students my dear Minnie?"

She indeed had much to tell, but not yet. She would need to keep an eye on the first years.

: illa vivit :

Dumbledore stroked his beard absent mindedly. With the rumor mill at Hogwarts in full swing already, he had a grasp of everything in general. More so with the fact that odd rumors pertaining to one boy-who-lived. 

Talented in all his classes, an exceptional flyer, and even hinted with an interesting personality trait of confidence that could be considered arrogance. He really took after his parents. Something he was happy for: he hoped to have the best of both. Even with him being placed in Slytherin Dumbledore knew that young Harry had the potential to be the best of everyone: Even more so if he was the third chosen by Fate.

It was with a content chuckle at his musings he turned his attention to his little beginning of the term 'get together'. The respected head of houses of Hogwarts sat among a round table, mixed expressions between them but all similar through the thoughtful look shared between them.

With a small cough, a simple smile, and a twinkle in his eye he asked. "So any new students that hold talent this year? Anything different?"

Pomona Sprout raised her hand in a quick motion, her smile proud as she shifted forward. Something she did often when talking about things interesting to her: Especially her Puffs. 

"Well Susan, the Bones heiress from what Minnie here-" A small cough. "-Minerva here says. She is taking after her aunt in her interest and skill in Defense against the Dark Arts. Something no doubt harbored through the want to protect others. Neville Longbottom however is proving to have the proper talent to have a wonderful future in not just Herbology- but Potions or even Alchemy if given the opportunity."

Severus sneered as Minerva gave him a pointed look.

"Splendid news! Hopefully we'll be seeing and hearing more from them in the future."

Flitwick spoke next, his however was more restrained. Clear was it that something else was on the mind of the wizard in front of Albus. 

"Well for my claws, the only real talent would be miss Granger. Not only does she seem to have an understanding of all her classes already-even for the first day. She seems to already be ahead of her peers not just with the words and theories of the books but even practically."

Minerva spoke quickly afterword.

"Indeed- Miss Granger seems to understand her own magic oddly well for her age- theoretically and practically excelling-with what she sets her mind on. All this clear on he first day nonetheless!"

Albus nodded, taking in the names with little mental notes. "As for Gryffindor. . .?"

Minerva paused, as though trying to find the words. A sigh escaping her.

"While all my lion's are currently doing well. Nothing for the first day. Ronald Weasley is eager, but easily frustrated. He doesn't seem to have the talent of those he shares a class with- and is quick to. . . quit when easily shown up by others. Regardless the potential for something great lies within him."

Severus sneered once more. turning the heads of everyone in the room. It was uncharacteristically clear what was on his face, a smirk of sorts-albeit a small one. Albus however caught that behind that smirk, and in those eyes were troubled thoughts. 

"Well. It seems to me that this is truly Slytherin's year." he drawled tiredly. "Draco Malfoy is proving to be talented in skilled- clearly showcasing his youth spent training under his father. Daphne Greengrass while silent shows talent in her quick but efficient learning curve. Zabini and Nott are not too far behind as well."

". . . And Harry Potter?"

While everyone had expected Minerva to ask-as everyone was sure he would end up where his parents were. Maybe even Albus had inquired about the boy-who-lived. Instead everyone turned to Filius, the source of the question.

"What of the brat." Snape drawled slowly, annoyance in his voice.

What happened next was chaos.

: illa vivit :

Filius was never one to be impulsive. His belief of knowing the information of every situation, then deciding a course of action. Yet loyal was a Goblin to their chief. The Chief Jobberwok however should, and would be respected.

Harry Potter chose the Flitwick clan patriarch as the Goblin King. That itself meant that Filius owed the boy-owed the Chief. Bloody Merlin this was going to take time to get used too. As Chief Jobberwok- his status needed to be made known-as disrespect to the Jobberwok was disrespect to the Goblin Nation. If he just let someone badmouth the boy- the Chief, Filius was no goblin.

With wand drawn, he pointed it at The head of Slytherin. Magic gathering in the room as shouted.

"Do not disrespect the Chief Jobberwok with meager insults!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forhergian - Ravage: Ravages the targeted area, individual, direction with physical manifestation of magic.
> 
> {Excerpt of Myrddin} Will be continued on Discord.
> 
> On that end note: The updates will be slower- as now I really want to flesh out the world with Discord- and Ao3. I want to ensure I can pull this off well, and not sloppily. 
> 
> See you next time! -Kerone


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